


The Best and the Worst You Can Be

by cassandraoftroy



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Consent, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandraoftroy/pseuds/cassandraoftroy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After failing to capture the Avatar, Eska parts ways with her brother and goes to Republic City to hunt down her errant husband, rather than returning immediately to the South Pole. This turns out to be somewhat less terrifying than Bolin might have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to sit on this until I finished it, but it's gotten a _lot_ longer than I expected (that seems to happen to me disturbingly often), and after the finale, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. Expect fairly regular updates for at least a little while. (Do not, however, expect the rating to stay this low.)
> 
> Title blatantly ripped off from "She's Always a Woman" by Billy Joel.

The first thing she noticed about Republic City was the smell. Making her way inland from the docks (and ignoring the stares of locals surprised to see her approach the pier on a raft of ice and rise on a column of water to step onto the shore), the heavy odor of machine oil and smoke hit her with almost physical force. Machines were not unknown in the North, but her people made an effort to preserve many of their traditional ways in order to maintain harmony with the spirit world, and the polar air did not retain and carry scents as effectively as the warmer breezes in these lands. It seemed that everywhere Eska looked, there were motorized vehicles and electrical conveniences of all sorts, even more so than among the Southern Water Tribe. For a moment, the tumult of lights and sounds was enough to distract her – but a single image rose above the clamor to refocus her on her objective.

There, pasted to a wall over a series of other similar notices, was a large poster enjoining the onlooker to attend a showing of the latest mover in the adventures of a character called "Nuktuk: Hero of the South." Between the two lines of text on the poster was a photograph of Bolin.

Without taking her eyes off the placard, Eska shot out one hand to seize a passerby – likely a dockworker, judging by his garments and body odor – by the shirt front. "Where are those performances filmed?" she demanded.

The longshoreman seemed about to protest, but the icy glare she turned to him quelled his indignation. "Varrick's studio isn't far from the docks. He bought out a block of warehouses about two streets down and turned them into mover sets." The man pointed vaguely down the road on which they stood, and then attempted to struggle out of her grip. Eska let him go, having obtained all she required from him, and started down the street. She had a husband to retrieve.

Though the walk to the studio was not long, the heat of the city was already beginning to feel unpleasant. Eska had spent little time outside of Water Tribe lands, save for the journey by ship on the way to the Glacier Spirits Festival in the South, and was unaccustomed to warmer climates. She paused briefly to remove her thick robe, finding the heat much more tolerable in the tunic and trousers she wore beneath it. Carrying the robe over one arm, she approached a building bearing a sign that read, "Studio A, Nuktuk: Hero of the South" and pushed open the door.

The set within was alive with activity. People rushed every which way, carrying sheaves of paper, reels of film, and esoteric-looking props; they dodged Eska as she strode across the open space, heeding nothing and no one other than the figure standing atop a mound of artificial snow, clad in a ridiculously inaccurate approximation of Water Tribe garb. "Husband."

Bolin started violently, which caused him to lose his footing on the slippery surface and sent him skidding down the mound on the seat of his pants to land at her feet. "Eska! What – how did – um – how lovely to see you, my darling rabbit-dove!" He scrambled to his feet again, casting his eyes about with apparent nervousness. "What, uh, brings you to Republic City?"

Activity around them had ceased. This drew the attention of Varrick, who was seated on a collapsible chair, reviewing a stack of papers and making modifications as he went. His head shot up and he quickly took in the situation. "Wait, no, this is great!" he exclaimed. "Nuktuk charms the only daughter of the evil Unalaq, and she falls in love with him and helps him escape her father's clutches! We can _use_ this!" Eska ignored the man, but Bolin shot his best attempt at a stifling glare at Varrick; it seemed largely ineffective.

"The Avatar thought she could take you away from me." Eska replied simply. "She was mistaken."

"No, that isn't – that's not what happened." Bolin took a breath, steeling himself. "Korra didn't 'take' me anywhere. I left."

This was not the response that Eska had anticipated. The eyes of so many onlookers began to feel intrusive. "We should continue this discussion in a more private location."

Bolin's discomfort appeared to increase. "Uh, sure. We could go to my dressing room – it's right over there." He indicated the direction with one hand.

An image arose in Eska's mind of Varrick crouched at the dressing room door with his ear pressed to a drinking glass held against the surface, straining to hear their conversation. "Your lodgings would be preferred."

"...Yeah, we can do that," Bolin agreed hesitantly. "Varrick, I have to, um..."

"Go ahead, no problem!" Varrick flapped a hand at him in dismissal. "I have some changes to make to the script. They should be ready when you get back."

Bolin's shoulders slumped. "Great. See you later, then." Eska took his arm and led him away from the set and toward the door through which she had entered. "I hope," he added under his breath as they stepped out onto the street.

They completed their journey to Bolin's residence in silence; Eska took note of the fact that Bolin did not attempt to initiate conversation, as he often had during their romantic excursions in the South. Instead, he seemed subdued, nervous. Eska felt a stirring of concern, and considered attempting to draw Bolin into small talk, an activity that she had noticed often put him at ease. Before she could determine how best to begin such an exchange, however, they had arrived at his domicile. She allowed him to precede her inside.

* * *

"The place is kind of a mess," Bolin warned halfheartedly as he opened the door to the apartment he shared with Mako. "I haven't really been home much lately, what with Varrick's filming schedule being so–" His glance fell on the hot tub, and a rush of panic choked off the rest of his sentence. _The hot tub! There's an enormous tub of_ water _in the middle of the room! I'm dead..._ A series of increasingly gruesome images cycled through his mind like scenes from a horrific mover, of various ways Eska could use all that water to take her vengeance on him if she didn't like how their conversation went. He looked frantically around the room for any avenue of escape, but the windows were too high and she'd get to him before he could reach the fire stairs.

He felt a hand press against his lower back as Eska pushed him – more gently than he'd expected – into the room. "It is suitable," she replied, removing a dirty sock from the coat rack by the door with her thumb and forefinger in order to hang up her robe. Then she turned to face him, closing the door behind them and leaning lightly against it. "You missed our wedding."

 _This is it..._ Bolin took a deep breath. "Yeah... about that. Getting married wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I came to talk to you that day." His body was practically vibrating with tension, ready to leap for cover at the first sign of the inevitable explosion.

Eska studied him for a moment, leaving Bolin feeling uncomfortably like a sparrowkeet under the yellow-eyed regard of a predator. "You spoke of a distance between us then. There is an aspect of our relationship that dissatisfies you?"

He braced himself for another step onto the creaking ice, wondering if it was about to give way beneath his feet and plunge him into the strangling depths. "Um, you could say that."

"Is it that we have not yet shared one another's bodies?"

"What? No!" Bolin backed up a pace, waving his hands in front of him in negation. "That's not what I was thinking at all!"

"You do not find me desirable?" she asked.

However Bolin had imagined this conversation going, this was about as far from it as humanly possible. Unbidden, his eyes responded to the question by focusing on Eska's body, and he realized that he'd never seen this much of her before. Without the heavy robes obscuring her form, it was utterly impossible to mistake her for her brother. She was slender and fit – not as muscled as Korra, but still obviously a disciplined bender. She had shapely hips, and though the neck of her tunic was cut too high to reveal much, he could tell that she had generous – "That's definitely not the problem," he said, pulling his gaze back to her face with an effort.

"Then what aspect of our union displeases you?" It actually appeared to be a sincere question, which only made Bolin more uncertain of how to proceed.

Despite its disastrous results last time, he settled on the honest approach again; maybe he just hadn't seen it through far enough before. "You scare me, Eska. I'm afraid if I don't do everything you want, the way you want, you're going to feed me to your dolphin-piranhas, or turn me into an ice sculpture at your father's next state dinner." He edged uneasily away from the hot tub. "I don't... I don't want to feel like a hostage instead of a boyfriend."

Eska's expression didn't precisely _change_ , so much as it seemed to turn brittle. She didn't respond right away; instead, she drifted away from the wall and toward the chair nearest the door. This time, she took no notice of the dirty laundry draped across it, simply taking the seat automatically with her hands resting in her lap. She lifted her face to meet his eyes. "You are the first male with whom I have chosen to form a romantic bond," she began, her voice distant. "Other than Desna and my father, most of the individuals I interact with regularly are servants. I have... little understanding of how romantic partners speak to one another. It appears that I have failed to identify the appropriate social customs. The error is mine." She lowered her gaze.

For several moments, Bolin couldn't do more than stare at her. "You mean, you weren't really going to do... all those _things_ you threatened to do to me?" he finally managed.

She seemed almost surprised by the question; it brought her head back up, and she regarded him curiously. "I viewed conflicts between us as a contest of wills. I simply employed whatever tactical leverage I felt necessary in order to prevail. I have no desire to cause you lasting harm."

Though the qualification of " _lasting_ harm" gave him a moment's pause, Bolin felt the tension across his shoulders begin to release. "That's good to know," he sighed.

"Does that sufficiently address your concerns?"

It didn't, but now at least Bolin felt like maybe he could talk to her about the rest without fearing for his life. He dragged over another chair and set it opposite hers, sitting down in front of her. "There's something else," he admitted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looked up at her. "Sometimes I feel like... like I'm not sure how much I really matter to you – as a person, not just as someone to carry your bags and pay for your dinner. I don't know how much you care about what I want, or need, or think."

Eska's hands, which had been resting quietly in the lap of her tunic, suddenly clenched – Bolin readied himself to dive behind the nearest piece of furniture, but the tsunami he was expecting didn't strike. He looked carefully into Eska's face and saw her eyes unfocused and blinking quickly, as if to clear them. She swallowed once, and then spoke. "When our courtship first began, you were a mere amusement; a pleasant-looking barbarian who I hoped would prove an adequate diversion from the dreariness of our visit to the South. But you did not remain so." Now her gaze was fixed on her hands, but Bolin wasn't sure she saw them. "I observed several ways in which your behavior diverged from that of other males. You sought my protection without hesitation, and accepted my aid without shame. You were courteous and obedient, and though easily excitable, your enthusiasm was refreshing. You effusively expressed affection toward your friends and companions."

She fell silent then, leaving Bolin wondering if he was expected to reply – which would have been awkward, as he had no idea how to respond to this description of himself through Eska's eyes. He was just barely spared the embarrassment of whatever stumbling comment he had been about to muster when she spoke again. "When you were taken from me, I experienced distress... grief." She raised her eyes to meet his once more, and Bolin saw that they were brimming. "Pain." She looked away again, abruptly, as though she was uncomfortable with her own admission. "You had become precious to me. I had not previously realized how much so... nor would I have known how to respond if I had. These emotions are a matter of great uncertainty, as I possess little reference to model my actions regarding them."

 _That was a question,_ Bolin realized. Eska had no idea how to be in a relationship. She wanted to give him the emotional connection he asked for, but didn't know how – and she wanted him to show her. He had only a vague sense of how much it must have cost her to express even that much vulnerability to him, but the fact that she had done it made him feel surprisingly warm inside. The thought entered his mind, much to his own astonishment, that maybe they could work things out after all. It was at least worth a try. "That was a good start, actually," he told her. "It helps, knowing how you feel. I get that you're not comfortable being all that expressive, so maybe just... try to take an interest in the stuff I care about? Or consider how I feel about things, sometimes?"

Eska pondered this for a moment. "Will you inform me when you are unhappy with a request or activity, so that I may consider your feelings?"

It was a legitimate question, and deserved an honest answer. "I... don't know," Bolin confessed. "I'm still kind of uncomfortable with, you know, contradicting you or not going along with what you want. It's probably going to take some time before I stop being afraid you're going to freeze my head and hang it on your wall."

"That is inadequate," Eska replied, frowning. The expression made Bolin uneasy. "If you don't notify me that your needs are unfulfilled, I will fail to respond appropriately. This is what we will do," she informed him after a moment's consideration. "I will assign you a phrase that is unrelated to the subject and unlikely to come up in normal discussion – 'saber-toothed moose-lion' – and you will say it when my words or actions have caused you distress. We will then immediately cease the current activity and I will inquire about your emotional state and how I may better meet your needs. Is that satisfactory?"

The suggestion caught Bolin by surprise, and he took a moment to work through it in his head. It was a weird idea, but the weirdness might actually help get around his anxiety about arguing with Eska. The fact that she had come up with the plan herself definitely helped. "I think so," he agreed. "We'll try it."

"Good." Bolin had gotten plenty of practice reading Eska's facial expressions since that fateful day at the Spirit Festival, but he had rarely seen the look she wore now as she turned her face toward him. The tiny smile only barely curved the line of her lips, but it touched her eyes, softening them.

Then she was on her feet again. "Give me a tour of the city."

The sudden change of topic left Bolin struggling to catch up. "What?"

Eska's voice gentled slightly again. "This city is your home. It is important to you. I wish to learn more about it – to see the places you value most."

Bolin smiled. _She's trying._ "Yeah, that's a great idea! Let me just get changed out of this costume." He flushed at the belated realization that he'd been having a Serious Relationship Talk while wearing his Nuktuk outfit.

"I will remain here. Dress quickly," she instructed.

He headed for his bedroom, happy for the first time in as long as he could remember to do exactly as Eska wished.


	2. Chapter 2

In Bolin's presence, the noise and bustle of the city was less overwhelming, though regrettably the same could not be said of the smell. Eska tried to breathe shallowly as she allowed Bolin to lead them through the streets. He seemed much more at ease now, animatedly pointing out to her various locations he considered noteworthy, accompanying each with a rambling anecdote about an event that had taken place there. It was pleasant to see him express such comfort around her, and she made an effort to listen to his stories; few of them were quite as interesting as he believed, particularly as she did not know most of the players involved, but they served as a useful resource for learning about the things Bolin valued.

She was not so absorbed in Bolin's storytelling that she could fail to notice the building they passed. It was constructed in a style heavy with Water Tribe motifs, but it had suffered obvious, and recent, injury. Scaffolding covered much of the front facade, and parts of the exterior bore the marks of fire and smoke damage. The front entrance was roped off, with signs forbidding entry. Eska frowned. "What happened to this place?"

Bolin's easy manner stiffened and fell away. "It's the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center. A few days ago there was an attack." He hesitated, discomfort evident in the way he glanced at her, but then squared his shoulders and pressed on. "They think it was in retaliation for all the protests and demonstrations to oppose what Unalaq is doing in the South."

More resistance to unity from their Southern cousins. Eska felt her frown deepen in confusion. "Why do they oppose my father so strongly? He only wishes to unite our people."

Bolin shifted from one foot to the other; he was growing anxious with her again. "Do you... do you really want an answer to that?"

It concerned her to see him so frightened of the reaction he expected from her. "I will not become angry with you. I want to understand what motivates this obstinate resistance."

He didn't precisely relax, but at least her assurance made him willing to speak. "The people of the South didn't ask to be 'united.' They already have a leader, Tonraq, who they chose and who they're happy with. They see Unalaq as an invader."

"But Tonraq is not a fit leader," Eska protested. "He is endangering his people by allowing them to neglect the spirit world, drawing the wrath of dark spirits. My father would be a much better choice."

"That's the thing, though," Bolin explained, "Unalaq didn't _give_ them a choice. He forced himself on them, and even if he _is_ a better leader, he's still not the one the South wants."

Eska studied Bolin curiously. "But if my father is the superior option, why should it matter what the Southerners want? My father knows better than they do the dangers they face by following Tonraq."

"Sometimes thinking you know better than someone else isn't a good enough reason to ignore their choice." He paused, casting his glance around as if searching for the words he wanted. "It's like – like how my friends will probably react when they find out we're back together. They'll think you're dangerous, and that I would be safer if I wasn't with you."

Her expression darkened. "They would be wrong."

Bolin raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I know that – things are a lot better now, since we talked. But _they_ would think they were right, that they knew better than me. And they wouldn't have the right to try to break us up just because they thought you were bad for me, right?"

Eska eyed him warily. "Indeed."

A triumphant smile crossed Bolin's face. "Then it's the same with the Southern Water Tribe and Tonraq. Maybe he's not good for his people, but that doesn't mean that Unalaq has the right to take the Tribe away from him. You see?"

The analogy was not a comfortable one for Eska, but as she turned it over in her mind, probing it for weaknesses, she was unable to find any significant flaws. She returned her attention to Bolin. "I will consider this. I wish to discuss the matter with Desna, but... perhaps there is merit to what you say. We shall see."

This response seemed to satisfy him, at least for the moment. He smiled brightly, offering her his arm. "Come on, there's something I want to show you."

Instead Eska grasped his wrist, halting his attempt to lead her onward. "Bolin. Your friends... What will you do?"

He stepped toward her, taking both of her hands in his. His touch was warm and gentle. "Don't worry, Eska. Like I said, things are better now. They might worry, but as long as I'm happy, they won't get involved."

"You are happy?" She regarded her own uncertainty with scorn, but the question would not sit quietly in her mind, unasked.

He met her eyes, simply looking at her for a moment. "Yeah," he said softly, and Eska identified a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Good," she replied, and gave his hands a light squeeze. "What did you wish me to see?"

Bolin's grin returned, and he moved to face the street again. "This way. You're gonna love it."

They headed back toward the waterfront, and soon their destination became evident: at the end of a narrow pier extending far into the bay rose an ornate building that gleamed golden in the afternoon sunlight. Rising from the top of the structure like a lion-turtle's shell was a glass dome. She glanced at Bolin, content to wait for his explanation.

She did not wait long. "It's the pro-bending arena," he told her as he led her through the large main doors. "It's pretty quiet now, because the next match isn't until tomorrow night. That makes this the perfect time to show you around! I play for one of the teams, you know," he added. "The Fire Ferrets. We made the finals in the championship last year!"

His enthusiasm for the subject was endearing, but Eska understood little of what he was talking about. "I am unfamiliar with this activity," she reminded him.

"Oh, right! Sorry." He reddened slightly upon realizing his error. "Pro-bending is a sport. Each team has a waterbender, an earthbender, and a firebender, and two teams compete against each other, trying to score points or knock each other off the playing field. There are rules that make it more complicated than that, but it's a lot of fun."

By now they had entered the stadium proper, and Eska could see the raised platform where the competition took place. It was divided into two halves, red and blue, each with a matching set of odd grates and divots. She wondered vaguely at their purpose. "When do you next compete? I will observe."

Embarrassment flushed Bolin's features again, and he glanced down at the unpleasantly sticky floor of the stands. "Actually, uh... the Fire Ferrets don't play again this season. We were knocked out of the tournament at our last match."

That made little sense to Eska. "But you were highly successful the previous year."

Bolin leaned against the back of a seat in the row below them. "That was when Mako and Korra were on the team. Now that Korra's focusing on her training and Mako joined the police force, they don't have time for pro-bending anymore. I had a hard time replacing them, and the players I found weren't the most experienced."

"You were handicapped by inferior allies," Eska summarized. It was entirely unacceptable; Bolin was hers, and that meant he must have the best of everything. "This will not happen again. I will join your team." It was the simplest solution, and would give her the opportunity to spend more time in his company, becoming invested in matters that held importance for him. "Instruct me in the rules of this activity."

Bolin seemed surprised by this decision. "You want to play pro-bending?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I assure you that my waterbending skills are more than adequate to excel in a game."

"No, it's not that!" he replied hurriedly. "It's just that – pro-bending has rules, restrictions on how rough you can be on other players."

"Then you must teach me."

He pushed off from the seat he had been leaning against, stepping closer to her. "Are you serious about this?"

Eska looked at him levelly. "I will inform you when I am employing wit."

His expression brightened. "Great! Then let's go!" He took her hand and attempted to lead her off again.

For a moment Eska considered resisting, but the sensation of his hand in hers was... enjoyable. She permitted him to guide them away from the stands. "Where?"

"There's a practice gym behind the stadium," Bolin explained. "I know the guy who runs it, and he won't mind if we use it for a while. No time like the present, right?"

Indeed, Eska could see no reason to delay the instruction, as she had no other pressing business at this time, and Bolin seemed pleased with the prospect of her joining his team. The practice area to which he led her was spacious, and though it was rather shabby, it appeared clean enough. When they entered the space, Bolin immediately headed for a rack containing several sets of lumpy, padded items. "Our gear was cleaned up and stored for next season, so it should be ready to go. You can take the waterbender set," he offered, lifting several of the objects from the rack and moving toward her. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be protective gear, a crude sort of armor.

She picked up the helmet, a cushioned red object emblazoned with a symbol representing water, and sniffed it skeptically. "Is this strictly necessary?"

"Well, yeah," he replied. "Not only do the rules require them, but it would be dangerous to go without it; things get pretty rough in the ring."

"I am more than capable of protecting myself," Eska protested indignantly.

"They're still not going to let you play without a helmet and pads," he insisted, and Eska realized that this was the first time she could recall him meeting her displeasure without flinching. Once, she would have regarded this as a dangerous sign that her control over him had begun to slip; now, though, it seemed almost reassuring. He was comfortable, whether with her or simply in this place where he was the expert, and it was pleasant to see. Bolin moved to reach for the helmet in her hands. "Do you still want to do this?"

She snatched the helmet out of his reach and shoved it down awkwardly onto her head. "I have already answered that query," she snapped.

"Here, let me help you with that." He closed the little distance that lay between them and adjusted the fit of the helmet on her head so that it no longer obscured her field of vision. Then he began helping her with the other elements of protective attire, which had a confounding array of straps and buckles. She was unaccustomed to the extreme level of physical proximity that the task required, but after the last of the padding was arranged to Bolin's satisfaction, Eska found herself regretful when he withdrew to a more customary distance. He was warm and solid, and smelled much more pleasant than anything else in this building.

Bolin donned his own pads and helmet with the ease of long practice. "So, the basics: each side of the playing field is divided into three zones, and the goal is to push the other team back so your team can advance, or to knock the other players off the back edge of the ring entirely. Since you're already a great bender, I think we'll need to focus less on what you _can_ do, and more on what you _can't_. Let's talk about the different types of penalties."

The number and variety of actions considered 'foul play' in this sport was surprising to Eska, and she couldn't help but think them rather excessive when combined with the heavy padding that players were required to wear. She regarded with particular contempt the rule prohibiting ice-bending. "Ice is a natural form of water; why should I not be permitted to utilize it?"

"Because it's too dangerous," Bolin told her. "The earth discs are round so they can't impale anyone or stab their eyes out. Ice is _pointy_."

"This game is overly concerned with precautions for safety," she complained.

Bolin shrugged. "Maybe, but those are the rules. Think of it as a challenge, to win without being able to use ice."

"I will adhere to the rules," Eska agreed sullenly, "even if that rule is stupid."

"You're not the first waterbender on the team to feel that way," he replied, grinning. "I don't even _know_ how many times Korra got called out by the refs for unnecessary roughness!"

 _Korra._ Her cousin's name stirred up an unease in Eska that was uncomfortably close to guilt. Bolin counted the Avatar as a close friend; learning of her demise would distress him greatly, but Eska suspected that it would be incorrect to withhold the information from him. In that moment she hated Korra for failing to subdue that spirit, for forcing Eska to speak words that would cause Bolin pain. But her hatred would not remove the need. "Bolin," she began, drawing his attention. The jovial expression on his face fell away at her somber tone. She took a breath and pushed the words out. "The Avatar is dead."

He did not react immediately, and as several heartbeats passed, Eska began to wonder whether he had understood her words, and feared that she would have to repeat them. _"No."_ She nearly flinched at the force behind the sudden utterance. "No. She can't be – she _isn't_ –" Then his stare fixed on her, and in his eyes flashed something she had never seen before. Eska fought the urge to back away from him. "You didn't."

"I did not harm her," she assured him quickly, and the frightening darkness began to fade from his gaze. "Desna and I pursued the Avatar with the intent of apprehending her and returning to the South, as our father had ordered. We approached her boat and engaged her, but a powerful dark spirit interrupted our battle and attacked the Avatar. She attempted the technique our father taught her to calm the spirit, but failed, and before we could react, it destroyed her vessel and carried her beneath the waves." There was something else she ought to say, some response she should give to the anguish he must now feel. "Bolin. I am... sorry."

He did not seem to hear her. "You didn't see her die," he said, and it was not a question. "She's a waterbender – she wouldn't have drowned. She could still be alive, out there somewhere! I have to go look for her!" He began stripping off his protective gear, heedless of the buckles and fasteners in his haste.

Eska stopped him before he had taken more than a handful of steps toward the door of the practice gym, grasping both his shoulders and forcefully turning him to face her. "Stop. The ocean is vast. Whatever her status may be, you will not find her by combing the seas blindly. The currents could have taken her anywhere."

He struggled briefly, and she could feel him trembling beneath her hands. "I have to help her," he entreated, his voice unsteady. "I have to do _something_. Korra's alive out there, I know it. _She_ would go looking for _me_." His eyes were too bright in the dim illumination of the gymnasium.

Privately Eska marveled at the depth of loyalty and concern Bolin displayed toward the Avatar, and a bitter spike of envy shot through her breastbone. But that could be addressed later; her concern now was for Bolin's distress. "The priests of the Avatar Temples would know if the Avatar's essence has passed on to another incarnation. They can tell you whether Avatar Korra still lives."

The suggestion of a clear goal appeared to help Bolin collect himself. "After one of the old Fire Temples was destroyed during the War, everything that was salvaged got moved to a temple in the Colonies until they could rebuild. I think it's still there – it's not far from here."

Then he was moving again, but this time Eska did not attempt to arrest his progress. "I will accompany you," she insisted, divesting herself of the protective padding with perhaps more violence than was warranted. Bolin did not respond, but neither did he try to prevent her. They exited the empty arena together.


	3. Chapter 3

Bolin didn't remember much of the journey to the Fire Temple; his thoughts were too busy chasing each other around in frantic circles inside his skull to notice things like the places they passed through or how long they traveled. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was finding out whether Korra was all right.

They rode on Naga, who had a surprisingly fast lope over level ground, and could keep it up over long distances. The polar-bear-dog had been hesitant around Eska at first, but Bolin had been able to convince Naga that Korra was in trouble and they all needed to go and help her. Pabu picked up on his worry as well, but his fear for Korra was too strong to be comforted by the insistent nuzzling of a fuzzy little head under his chin.

Eska said nothing during their ride, though that was normal enough for her. The firm but gentle grip of both her hands on his waist was less normal, but he was too worried to think about that. When he saw the outline of the Fire Temple on the horizon, he willed Naga to greater speed, wishing they were there already.

The temple was smaller than the pictures he'd seen in the books on Air Temple Island. In those drawings, the Crescent Island Fire Temple was a towering building five stories tall, with an ornate pagoda design. This temple was more squat, built from the native Earth Kingdom stone, with few decorative flourishes – probably because it was originally meant to be only a temporary home for the destroyed temple's remaining Fire Sages and their artifacts. This temple stood on the edge of the rocky coast, on a high tongue of land that stretched out over the sea. A narrow path threaded its way along the uneven terrain toward the main gate. At Bolin's urging, Naga picked her way carefully over the trail, her claws digging into the hard earth to keep from slipping as the path skirted the edge of the low cliff.

As soon as they were within sight of the entrance, Bolin flung himself from Naga's back. The tall iron gates were closed, and when Bolin grasped the bars and pulled, then pushed against them, they held fast. He leaned against the bars, trying to see anyone moving around inside. "Is anyone there?" he shouted. "I need to talk to someone about the Avatar!"

It felt like he was yelling through the gates for ages, but Eska had only just come up to stand beside him by the time an older man wearing red robes and a high, forked headpiece arrived on the other side of the gate. "What is all this commotion?" he demanded.

Bolin struggled to catch his breath after all the shouting. "I have to talk to somebody about the Avatar. I need to know if she's all right, if she's still..." He swallowed painfully, finding it hard to say the last word, _alive_.

The old man frowned. "It is not the custom of the Fire Sages to discuss the business of the Avatar with anyone who asks," he replied sternly.

"But I'm her friend!" Bolin insisted, the pitch of his voice rising as his grip on the panic inside him started slipping. "I need to know if she's okay!"

"We have no way to know whether you are who you claim," the Sage told him. "It is our duty to serve the Avatar, not to satisfy the curiosity of the public."

"No! You _have_ to let me in!" Bolin railed, losing the battle with his fear for Korra. He rattled the bars of the gate again, trying to force them open. "Korra's in trouble, and I have to find her!"

The Fire Sage shifted into a ready stance, and Bolin braced himself to earthbend the cobblestones under the old man's feet and force his way into the temple. Then he felt a small hand touch his shoulder, its gentle but irresistible pressure pushing him to one side and radiating a steady calm at the same time. "I am Eska, Princess of the Northern Water Tribe and blood-kin to Avatar Korra." The usual monotone of her voice carried a subtle air of command. He glanced at her, and saw her brandishing an emblem that she had been wearing on a thong around her neck, under her tunic: a symbol of rank, he guessed. "I assume your genealogical records can confirm this bond of kinship?"

The Fire Sage's grizzled eyebrows shot up toward his headpiece in surprise. "Why, yes, we have those records." He peered at the crest she held out toward him, and seemed satisfied that it was real.

"Then you will admit us, and answer our questions regarding the status of the Avatar." Her tone was pure ice.

"O-of course." The Sage's manner instantly turned more deferential, and he took a ring of keys from his belt and began unlocking the gate. Eska glared daggers of ice at him the whole time, making the old man fumble nervously with his keys, but finally the gate was open and they were let inside, along with Naga and Pabu.

They were escorted into the main building of the small temple complex, and to a dim waiting area furnished in the old Fire Nation style. The Fire Sage who led them there excused himself, promising that the Elder Sage of the temple would join them shortly. When the door closed, Bolin felt all the fight drain out of him, and he sank onto a chaise against one wall. He gripped his knees to stop his hands from shaking, and drew in a shuddering breath.

Eska was sitting beside him before he could speak, and suddenly she was the most comforting thing he could imagine (short of seeing Korra herself walk through that door). He let himself wilt against Eska's shoulder; she was warmer than he expected. It was nice. It was even nicer when she started carding her fingers through his hair. "This place is calm," she observed neutrally. "The fire priests serve the Avatar. If she had died, they would be agitated."

She was trying to reassure him. The evidence she presented was far from certain, and if Bolin let himself, he could probably come up with half a dozen arguments against it – but right now, he _needed_ to be reassured, and he clung to the comfort she offered with both hands. He nuzzled deeper into the warmth of her embrace. "Thanks for getting us in here," he muttered.

"I would _not_ see them deny you," she spat, continuing to stroke his hair soothingly. It was odd how much less her venom scared him when it was being expended _for_ him and not _at_ him, he realized. The distraction of that thought, combined with the gentle solace of her touch, started to unclench the cold, hard knot of fear that had taken root somewhere low in his stomach.

There was a sound outside the room; Eska's hand dropped to her side, and Bolin reluctantly took that as his cue to pull away from her shoulder and sit up. The door opened to admit an elderly man with a full beard and kind eyes. Eska rose as he entered, one hand under Bolin's elbow to drag him to his feet as well. "Welcome to the Colonial Fire Temple," the aged priest greeted them. "I am Elder Sage Hiro. I understand that you have questions regarding the Avatar?"

All of Bolin's worries came rushing back. "Is she all right? Can you tell us what happened to her, where she is?"

Eska took a step forward, causing the Elder Sage's attention to focus on her. "A number of days ago, I witnessed a dark spirit attack Avatar Korra on the waters between here and the Fire Nation. She appeared to lose the battle, but I was unable to determine her fate. We wish to know if she lives."

A look of alarm flickered across the Sage's features, and he gave a solemn nod. "This news concerns me. I can tell you that the Avatar spirit remains within the incarnation of Avatar Korra." _She's alive,_ Bolin thought, and relief flooded through his body, leaving him weak. His knees buckled; fortunately the chaise was still right behind him, or he might have ended up on the floor.

"Beyond that, however..." The Elder Sage shook his head regretfully. "This temple was built primarily as a memorial for the Fire Temple on Crescent Island; we have a handful of relics recovered from that Temple, and the few items necessary for us to perform our spiritual responsibilities, but doing much beyond that – attempting to contact or observe the Avatar through the spirit world – is difficult."

"Difficult," Eska repeated flatly, "not impossible. What do you require?"

The Sage seemed to expect the question. "Our spirit pool would provide the necessary connection to the Avatar essence, but in order to reach Avatar Korra, we would need to combine the spirit waters with something that possessed a strong connection to the Avatar's physical form."

Bolin's brows creased in thought. _What do we have that's connected to Korra?_ They hadn't brought any of her stuff with them, except... "Naga! I mean, Korra's polar-bear-dog. She's outside. Would that work?"

"Unfortunately, no," replied the Sage. "While Avatar Korra undoubtedly has a strong bond with the animal, the ritual we must perform requires a more tangible physical link."

"I am first cousin to Avatar Korra," Eska cut in. "Is that bond sufficient for the ritual?"

The Elder Sage considered the possibility. "Yes, your blood connection to the Avatar should be strong enough," he concluded. "When do you wish to attempt the ritual?"

Eska glanced down at Bolin. "As soon as can be arranged."

The Sage nodded. "Then please follow me." He turned and opened the door, leading the way back into the main chamber.

"Come, boyfriend." Eska reached out a hand to him, and Bolin – still feeling a bit wobbly – gratefully accepted it. She pulled him to his feet and they followed the Fire Sage.

At the rear of the entry hall stood a set of doors with an complicated flame design worked into their surface in brightly-colored metal. Hiro pointed at part of the design and a gout of flame erupted from his fingertips. The metal pieces channeled the fire through a series of tubes along an elaborate path that made Bolin feel a little dizzy trying to follow it; finally he heard the sound of a hidden mechanism being tripped, and the doors swung open.

They entered a high-ceilinged chamber with narrow windows lining the upper portion of the walls, and further illuminated by flames fueled from a channel of oil that ran along the walls. Instead of an endless series of statues encircling the room, which he had seen described in another of Tenzin's books, the spiral that lined the walls and floor of the chamber was made of gemstones – garnet, opal, turquoise, and jade – repeating the same pattern of four over and over again as they climbed toward the vaulted ceiling. In the center of the floor was a narrow well. As they approached it, Bolin could see that the water rose almost to the top of the well, and shimmered in a way that seemed brighter than water usually was. The Elder Sage opened a sluice in one side of the rim, and a stream of water flowed down into a smaller basin built into the side of the well. Hiro stood on one side of the basin, and gestured for Eska to take a position opposite him. Bolin wasn't given any particular instructions, so he wandered over to the side of the basin opposite the well, where he could see what was going on without – _hopefully_ – getting in the way. He took it as a good sign when nobody chased him off.

The Elder Sage drew a knife from his belt; the blade was a little longer than Bolin's hand and the tip curled backward. The pommel was a dragon's head made of gold. He passed it, handle-first, to Eska. "Whenever you are ready," he told her.

Bolin wasn't sure what Eska was supposed to be ready _for_ or what she was supposed to do with the knife, so his eyes widened with surprise and alarm when she brought the blade down to her own left palm. She drew it across her hand, pressing hard enough to leave behind a thick trail of red. Her face showed no sign of how much it must've hurt. Before he could do anything stupid, like cradle her wounded hand in his and try to mop up the blood with the tail of his shirt, she extended her hand over the basin and squeezed her fist. A trickle of dark crimson splashed into the water, spreading like ink where it fell. Then Hiro leaned over the bowl, his glowing hands tracing intricate patterns above the surface.

He was torn between wanting to watch what the Fire Sage was doing, in case any sign of Korra appeared in the water, and the urge to fuss over Eska's injury. Turning to look at her, Bolin saw that she had uncorked the skin of water she wore at her hip and was using her waterbending to heal the cut. Relieved, he let his eyes drift back to the basin. The cloudy droplets of blood were no longer visible, and the surface of the water was radiating a light of its own in response to the movements of Hiro's hands. Bolin couldn't see any images in the water, but apparently there was something there that the Sage understood. "The Avatar's battle with the dark one has wounded her spirit," he told them. "She has entered the spirit world to heal and become whole once more."

That didn't sound good. "Is there some way we can help her?" Bolin asked urgently.

The Elder Sage shook his head. "In order to enter the spirit world, she must have reached a place with a powerful spiritual connection – likely another Fire Temple, if she was in Fire Nation waters when she was attacked. Between the Sages there and her own Avatar spirit, she already has the only help that can reach her now."

Bolin felt himself droop. "So, we just have to wait until she comes back on her own?"

"I am afraid so," Hiro confirmed. "But I believe you have little cause for worry; though injured from her battle, Avatar Korra's spirit remains strong. I do not doubt that you will see her again soon."

"Thank you," Bolin told him sincerely. Hearing that did help – the Fire Sages knew more about spirit stuff than Bolin ever would, and if their Elder said that Korra was going to be okay, that had to mean something.

As if the Elder Sage guessed Bolin's thoughts, Hiro favored him with a kind smile. "The two of you are welcome to remain here for the night. We are not accustomed to visitors, and our quarters are not luxurious, but they are yours if you wish."

Bolin glanced up at the high windows; the flames of sunset were just beginning to give way to the ash-grey of twilight. "We appreciate it, but I should probably get back and let my brother know what happened to Korra," he replied. "He's probably frantic, not knowing where she is. If we leave now, we'll make it to the city before it gets too dark." A glance at Eska's face told him he'd made the right decision – the way her lips had tightened when Hiro offered to let them stay showed that she didn't relish the prospect of roughing it in the Fire Temple.

The Elder Sage's smile did not falter. "Very well. Safe travels, young ones. Your animals have been given food and water, and should be ready for you to depart." Hiro opened another sluice in the side of the basin, letting the water within pour out and into a small drain embedded in the floor. His hands glowing with flame again, he skimmed them over the inner surface of the basin. Though he didn't seem eager to hurry them on their way, the Sage also made no effort to detain them. Bolin thanked him again and reached for Eska's hand. She took it without comment, leading him out the door.

As they entered the courtyard, with only the fuzzy ears of Pabu and Naga to overhear them, he spoke. "Eska, I... I appreciate what you did, back there. I didn't know they were going to ask you to cut yourself like that – are you okay?"

"The injury was superficial. I have already healed it."

Bolin sighed. "That's not what I meant. It must've really hurt." This time he did reach for the hand she had slashed, tracing his thumb gently over the unmarked palm.

Eska didn't pull her hand out of his grasp. "Physical pain is transitory," she said simply. "Your pain over Avatar Korra's uncertain fate was much greater; it wasn't hard to accept a lesser pain to end it."

He must have used up all his self-restraint keeping himself from doing something stupid and impulsive within the Fire Temple sanctuary, because now the urge to be stupid and impulsive took over with little resistance from him. He brought her hand up to his face and dropped a soft kiss onto the open palm, where the now-invisible gash had been. Before Eska could react – with scorn or violence, he wasn't sure which – Bolin turned and climbed up onto Naga's back.

He was pleasantly surprised when Eska sat closer against him, her hands clasped possessively around his waist, on the ride back to the city.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, we're starting to see some of the other canon characters! We'll see some others eventually (this story is getting _long_ on me; you should see my draft file) -- hopefully the entire Team Avatar in time.

It had been a heck of a day. After an early morning on the set, Eska showed up out of _nowhere_ and Bolin had thought he was going to die, and then they ended up getting back together – which miraculously seemed to be turning out to be a _good thing_ , somehow – and then Korra was dead, and then she _wasn't_ , and now Bolin was just exhausted.

_So why am I not falling asleep?_

The problem wasn't the couch; he'd taken many a nap on this soft, reliable, slightly-lumpy piece of furniture. Bolin had given his bed to Eska before she'd had the chance to ask for it, because he wasn't a complete boor and knew better than to make a lady sleep on the couch. She'd seemed to appreciate the gesture, but worried over his comfort, asking why he couldn't take his brother's bed, since Mako wasn't at home yet.

 _Where is Mako, anyway?_ Probably working another late shift at the precinct, Bolin guessed. Or maybe _he_ was out looking for Korra, if she hadn't gotten the chance to tell him she planned to be gone for a while, and Mako was worried. He shifted a little, trying to avoid the broken spring on the left side of the couch, and pulled the blanket up over his ear.

He must have finally drifted off, because the next thing Bolin knew, he was roused from a sound sleep by Mako's heavy uniform jacket hitting him in the face. "Hey! Watch it!" he groused.

"Bolin?" Mako's voice sounded startled. "Are you sleeping out here?"

"I _was_ ," he retorted darkly.

"I thought you were a pile of laundry," his brother admitted.

Bolin thought back to Eska's arrival, and the embarrassing state of their apartment. "Yeah, we really need to get on top of the laundry situation."

"Why are you out here, anyway? Something wrong with your bed?"

He snorted. "Yeah: it's occupied."

Squinting into the dim light coming in through the windows from the streetlamps outside, he watched Mako try to puzzle out who could possibly be in his bed that would mean Bolin wasn't sharing it with them. "Korra?" he guessed.

"What? No. If it was Korra, I'd send her to go take up _your_ bed," Bolin pointed out. "You're the one dating her, after all."

Mako looked at the floor uneasily, nudging a dirty undershirt to one side with the toe of his boot. "Well... not exactly. Not anymore."

Bolin sat upright with a jolt. "You broke up? What did you do, Mako?"

" _Me?_ I didn't do anything! _She_ was the one who came storming into the police department, breaking things and yelling about how I told the President she was gonna go behind his back to get the fleet to send ships South."

"You did _what?!_ " Now Bolin was on his feet. "I should never have told you that! No wonder she broke up with you."

"She didn't break up with me! I broke up with _her!_ " Mako protested.

Bolin just stared at him for a second. "Mako, I never thought I'd say this, but you're an idiot."

Maybe Mako had started thinking the same thing, because he didn't argue the point directly. "Why are you sleeping out here, anyway?" he asked.

He shrugged. "I let Eska have my room."

That got Mako going again. " _Eska?_ Your crazy ex-girlfriend is in our house?"

"Don't call her that," Bolin growled. "And she's not my ex. We got back together."

"Are you _insane?_ " Mako exclaimed. "Not long ago you were begging me to save you from her!"

"Well, now you don't have to!" Bolin snapped. "Things are different now. We talked."

"Did she brainwash you with her waterbending somehow?"

This line of questioning was starting to get seriously annoying. "Of course not," he snarled. He was pretty sure waterbending couldn't even _do_ that. Probably.

"Maybe you forgot about all the ways she used and humiliated you, but do you remember who her _father_ is?" Mako demanded. "Unalaq is still trying to conquer your best friend's entire culture, in case that slipped your mind."

"Yeah, and we all know how much _you_ care about that," Bolin shot back.

"That's not fair," Mako objected, and Bolin knew he'd drawn blood.

"No, what's not fair is you questioning Eska's motives, when if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't know that Korra was nearly killed by a spirit on her way to the Fire Nation."

"What?" That took Mako by surprise.

"She's fine. Eska and I went to that Fire Temple down the coast, and they told us Korra's gonna be all right." Bolin resisted the urge to press the advantage by pointing out whose fault it was that Korra had needed to make that journey in the first place. Instead he returned to the point. "So don't insult Eska when you have no idea what's going on."

"I'm just trying to keep you from making another huge mistake!"

Bolin's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I'm not all that interested in taking dating advice from _you_ right now." It was a low blow, but at the moment he didn't care.

Mako's eyes flashed with fire. "All right, fine! Get yourself married off to some lunatic waterbender chick, and see if I come help you then!" He turned on his heel and stormed into his own bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"So what else is new?" Bolin shouted after his brother's retreating form. _Great. Now I'm all wound up from a screaming match with my brother and won't be able to get to sleep_ again _anytime soon._ With an irritated sigh, he sank back down onto the couch and fluffed up his pillow with rather excessive force. He flopped onto it in a semi-reclining position, his back to the bedroom doors.

A few moments passed, and the light creak of a footstep on the wooden floor behind him interrupted the angry rumblings of his thoughts. He thought it was Mako, come back for more, and turned around to fire off another heated barb at his brother –

But it wasn't Mako whose eyes he met when he twisted around to look down the narrow hallway. It was Eska, standing at the open door to his room, wearing one of his longer shirts as a nightgown. He recognized it as his favorite shirt – _And if it wasn't my favorite before, it would be now._ The hem of the shirt fell about a third of the way down her thighs, and sleeves that only reached his elbow came down halfway to her wrists. Her long, gracefully curved legs were bare below the shirt all the way down to her feet, and Bolin couldn't help noticing that she had cute toes. The sight of her wearing his shirt cut through both the cloud of anger and the fog of sleeplessness shrouding his mind, and made something deep in his stomach twist pleasantly.

"I did not realize my presence would create a rift between you and your brother," she said softly.

He clambered over the arm of the couch, taking the most straight-line path to stand beside her. "Eska, no, you didn't create a rift. If anything created a rift, it was Mako being an _ENORMOUS JERK_." He shouted those last words over his shoulder toward his brother's bedroom, and was rewarded with the sound of a boot being thrown against the door.

Bolin could see the tiny crease between her eyebrows that meant she was troubled. "Still," she insisted, "I do not wish to cause you unnecessary distress."

He took her hands in his and led her back to the couch, gesturing for her to sit. Bolin took a seat beside her – right on the broken spring. "You're not, Eska; please don't think that. I'm glad you're here." And it was true. He still hadn't gotten over how strange – but wonderful – that was.

This seemed to reassure her, and the little crease disappeared. "I heard what you said to your brother about me," she told him.

"Well, I meant it," he promised. "You're not responsible for what Unalaq does."

She nodded. "I must send a message to Desna tomorrow. I wish to share what you told me with him, and learn whether he has any doubts about our father's actions." She hesitated a moment, as if considering something. "You may review the missive, if you wish. I will not inform my brother at this time that the Avatar lives."

Bolin was torn. He didn't like what agreeing to read her mail would imply, but he also didn't want to be stupid about this – it wasn't like she had committed herself to their side. "I trust you, but it's probably best if I can tell Korra that I _know_ you didn't say anything dangerous, instead of just that I _believe_ it," he concluded finally.

"Sensible," she agreed. "Bolin... I am pleased that you do not regard our courtship as a mistake."

He wanted to fold his arms around her, pull her close, bury his face in the unbound hair that fell loosely around her shoulders. Instead, he rubbed his thumb lightly across the back of her hand. "Definitely not a mistake," he assured her, smiling. The warm, twisty feeling in his stomach was growing, and he couldn't help noticing how pretty her eyes were, even without her usual makeup. "Eska, I – I'd kinda like to kiss you right now."

Eska's eyes widened, and for a terrifying moment, Bolin was certain he'd just ruined everything. She was going to shove him away, or hit him, or _laugh_ at him... "You have permission to initiate physical affection," she informed him, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

He didn't move. _Come on, Bolin,_ he chided himself, _it's not like you've never done this before._ That was true, but Eska wasn't like most of the other girls he'd known. She wasn't impressed by his being a pro-bender, or a star in the movers, or any of the other things that usually boosted his confidence. All he had to fall back on was himself, and that left him feeling unexpectedly vulnerable.

But Eska was waiting for him. He took a breath, trying to calm the frenzied pulse hammering in his throat, and leaned toward her. His head tilted slightly to one side to avoid bumping noses with her as he brushed his lips against hers. It was hard to to predict what kind of response – if any – he would get from Eska, but she at least didn't pull away from his light kisses, so he took a risk and traced the line of her mouth with his tongue. Her lips parted under his touch, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, gently exploring. She was soft, and warm, and –

It caught him completely off-guard when she took over the kiss, one hand fisted in the hair at the back of his head and the other hand cupping the side of his jaw. Her tongue glided past his and into his mouth, and he found himself helpless under the onslaught of her kiss as she claimed his mouth as her rightful property. She pulled his lower lip into her mouth and caught it with her teeth, nipping gently before her tongue swirled around his again and she resumed her conquest. Bolin opened his eyes to find Eska straddling his lap, pressing him against the back of the couch; her hand tangled in his hair was the only thing keeping the back of his head from slamming into the wall.

When she finally released him, Bolin was breathless and a little dazed. A small smile touched Eska's lips. "That was pleasant," she said. "You may initiate the gesture again in the future." She climbed off the couch and padded across the small stretch of cluttered floor to his bedroom door. "Goodnight, boyfriend." After taking him in with one last, lingering look, she closed the door behind her.

It took a few more seconds for his brain to click back on. "Yeah, goodnight," he said to the door, and started shifting on the couch to find a more restful position. There was something preventing him from getting comfortable – eventually he realized that it was the throbbing erection pressing insistently against the front of his pants. He sighed, trying to push it down with the heel of his hand. "I am _never_ getting to sleep tonight."

His head tipped back and his gaze drifted to his bedroom door; he grinned. _But I'm kind of okay with that._


	5. Chapter 5

This stretch of beach, at the outskirts of the city, was much quieter than the busy docks where she had first come ashore. The hint of machine exhaust was still present on the breeze, but it no longer overwhelmed the natural smells of the sea. She would not have expected Bolin to know of such a place; he seemed so much more at ease in the heart of the city than in wilder surroundings. Even now, he seemed unnecessarily skittish of the small spider-crabs that now and then scuttled too close to the blanket he had laid out for them on the sand. _Perhaps his squeamishness is merely a pretense to provide him with an excuse to move closer to me._ He was pressed against her side, making anxious shooing motions at the finger-long brown spider-crab that had crept up to investigate the frayed edge of the blanket. Eska considered, and dismissed the possibility; Bolin did not possess the guile for such a ruse. It was regrettable, as she enjoyed the contact. With one hand, she coaxed a tendril of water up from the surf and used it to lift the spider-crab gently up off the blanket, setting it down on the sand some distance away. Bolin relaxed, but did not retreat from her side. One corner of her mouth curled upward in amusement – maybe he did have a touch of guile after all.

When Eska had explained to Bolin that sending a letter to her brother would require her to remain in contact with the sea for an extended period of time, he had insisted on bringing a "picnic lunch" with them. He explained the custom of eating outdoors while sitting on the ground – an activity that could only have been conceived in warmer climates than her own – and she realized that he intended to turn the errand into a romantic outing. This was acceptable; she could resign herself to eating sandwiches on a blanket in the dirt if she could do it while leaning against Bolin's warm, broad back, or while allowing him to encircle her in his thickly-muscled arms. The costume she had discovered her boyfriend wearing yesterday morning had been a ludicrous excuse for Water Tribe apparel, but it succeeded in displaying his more appealing physical attributes. There was, she supposed, something to be said for warmer climates.

She scolded herself sharply and returned her attention to the tablet balanced against the slope of her knees, and the blank page that did not yet contain her letter to Desna. Eska regarded the pen that Bolin had provided her with renewed skepticism; the channel of ink contained in its workings would quickly dry up or freeze at home in the North Pole. However, it would function adequately here. She set the tip of the pen to paper.

_Desna,_

_I have arrived in Republic City and reclaimed my husband. I shall remain here for the present, as recent events have made it clear that this relationship requires my further attention._

_I desire your opinion regarding concerns I have over matters in the South. Father did not offer the Southerners the opportunity to accept his leadership willingly before moving our fleet – a conspicuous omission, as much difficulty could have been saved. It causes me unease over the reasoning for his choices, and the legitimacy of our actions in the South Pole. Your insight is welcomed._

_Eska_

Upon completing the message, she looked it over twice in search of errors or smudges, and was satisfied to find none. "Bolin," she said, "you may review this, as we agreed."

"All right." He took the paper from her and began reading. Almost immediately, his head shot up again. "Um, Eska? You referred to me here as your 'husband'..."

"Yes. And so you are, as far as my brother or father need to know for the present," she explained. "It is far more appropriate for me to travel to a foreign country to reunite with my husband, than for me to run off unchaperoned with my boyfriend."

Bolin's eyes went wide. "Oh. _Oh._ I get it." His face took on the half-lidded, lopsided grin that he seemed to believe made him look alluring. She ignored it.

"Are you finished?" she asked pointedly, gesturing to the letter.

"Ah, right – sorry." He returned his eyes to the page. It did not take him long to reach the end. "Everything else looks fine to me." As he handed it back to her, his expression turned curious. "So, you never told me exactly how you were gonna get the letter to your brother."

She did not respond immediately, instead folding the message in half, and then in half again, until it was small enough to fit within the stoppered glass vial she carried in the pocket of her tunic. "Observe," she told Bolin finally, and plucked the nearly-empty bottle of tea from his unresisting hand. She claimed the last sip for herself as he rummaged in the basket he'd brought for another, and then poked the glass vial through the mouth of the bottle. A simple twist of her fingers summoned another trickle of seawater, which she funneled into the open bottle before corking it.

"Aren't bottle-messages supposed to float?" Bolin asked through a mouthful of cold seaweed noodles.

She pulled off her fur-lined boots before answering him. "I will be able to propel the bottle more swiftly below the surface." With the legs of her trousers rolled up to the knee, she rose and waded out into the surf. Then she hurled the bottle out as far as she could, sending a whip of water up to catch it before it struck the waves so that it wouldn't smash against the rocks of the shallow sea floor. As it disappeared into the water, Eska closed her eyes and guided its progress further out to sea, where the deeper currents flowed. Warm waves lapped at her bare ankles, maintaining the connection of her bending.

"You're gonna waterbend that thing all the way to the South Pole?"

The bottle was out of the bay now, gliding into deeper water where it could move unimpeded. "It will only take a few hours; the ocean currents add considerable speed." This was admittedly much further than she had ever sent a message to Desna before – they had never been this far apart – but she could still feel the faint connection to her twin through the medium of their native element, and she was confident that her reach would be sufficient.

She heard nervous shuffling behind her. "O-okay, I'll just... stay over here and not distract you, then."

Eska turned to face him. He didn't meet her eyes; he was staring down into his cardboard container of noodles, dejection darkening his features. "This task does not require my full concentration," she informed him. "Amuse me."

Instantly his face brightened with a delighted smile. "Great! We can... um, do whatever you want, I guess?" He climbed to his feet, setting his meal down on the blanket, and dragged the cloth and all its contents carefully toward the water's edge until they were close enough that she would be able to lie on the blanket with her toes trailing in the water – at least until the tide went further out.

Though she had told Bolin the truth, directing the course of the bottle demanded enough of her focus that she would not be able to contribute much to their discussion for some time; it was necessary for him to provide the lion-yak's share of conversation. "Our lesson yesterday was interrupted. Continue your instruction on pro-bending," she suggested. He would enjoy that topic, and it pleased Eska to watch Bolin talk about things he enjoyed.

As she predicted, he responded to the subject with great enthusiasm, and launched into a detailed review of the rules of the sport. Eska made no attempt to absorb all the information he presented, as maneuvering the bottle along the jagged, volcanic seafloor near the easternmost Fire Nation islands needed too much of her attention; she would make him acquire a rule book for her at some point. For now, it was enough simply to watch him expound on something that captured his passion. Bolin's explanation of rules eventually spilled over into a discussion of tactics and techniques, interspersed with descriptions of matches in which one of the Fire Ferrets (usually Bolin himself) had used this or that move to powerful effect.

By the time Bolin noticed that he had begun repeating his stories, she had guided the bottle into polar waters, and they had to shift further down the beach as Eska chased the ebbing tide. After he reassembled their picnic, Bolin began earthbending sand castles for her amusement. Initially he attempted to create a sand hut for Pabu, but the fire ferret could not be coaxed inside, so Bolin gave up and went on bending other structures. Eska described for him the royal palace at the North Pole, and he sculpted the sand to match her words until he had produced a credible likeness of her home. With a flick of her fingers, Eska added the moat that encircled the palace.

Bolin studied the sand construction in silence for a handful of moments. "The place you grew up must have been really amazing," he remarked quietly.

She shrugged. "It was the palace. Much of it was used for state business, and thus off-limits until Desna and I were older. Our wing was pleasant enough." Eska looked up at him, trying to identify the cause of his contemplative expression. "When matters in the South are resolved, I would like to show it to you."

His frown deepened. "I don't know if I belong somewhere like that." The regret in his voice sounded more sincere than it had back at the South Pole, when he had spoken of missing her after she returned home. "I mean, up until last year, Mako and I lived in the attic of the west tower of the pro-bending arena, and we were lucky to have that much. And you're a princess who lives in a palace."

Eska reached out to cover his hand with hers. "Bolin. I have chosen you. You belong where I _say_ you belong; no one in the North will challenge that." She reflected on her attempt to outfit him in more suitable attire following their betrothal, and wondered if that incident contributed to his apprehension. "You will be welcome in my home just as you are."

A small smile broke through the clouds on his face. "Thanks. Korra says that penguin-sledding is popular with the Water Tribes – maybe we could try it together?"

"Otter-penguins are not native to the North Pole," she told him. When his smile began to fade again, she quickly added, "However, we have other traditional forms of recreation that you can attempt."

"Sure!" he agreed, his cheerful demeanor returning. "What kinds of things do people in the Northern Water Tribe do for fun?"

"Wait." Her bottle-message was approaching the capital city in the South, and threading the fragile glass among the glaciers and rocks so close to the landmass demanded all her focus. She closed her eyes as she pushed off the blanket to stand in the water, wading out until the tide licked up to her mid-calf. Her waterbending senses reached out to much colder seas, grasping the bottle tightly and guiding it along a path of her choosing. Eska bypassed the harbor entirely; the Southern palace was close enough to the water for her purposes. She imagined the suite of rooms that she and Desna had been given within the complex, and strained to remember its position in within the building as accurately as possible. One hand raised, lifting the bottle on a column of frigid water, and insinuated it carefully through the window of her brother's chamber. She lowered her hand, retracting the tendril of water from the casement, and let her concentration dissolve.

When she opened her eyes again, Bolin was staring at her. "The letter has reached its destination," she said. She left the water's edge, returning to the blanket, Bolin, and her boots. Their conversation had stirred up a thought that had been brewing within her since some time the previous day. "Bolin. I wish to ask you... a favor."

Surprise registered on his face. She supposed this was understandable, as she was not in the habit of making requests. It made her uncomfortable; if one _asked_ for something, one could be refused. However, this matter was important enough that Bolin needed to have the power to deny her – and it would mean more if he freely agreed.

Eska took a breath. "I agree that our marriage plans were... premature. Regardless of what Desna and my father are told, it is best that our relationship be allowed to progress more gradually. However," she continued, searching his face as she spoke in an effort to anticipate his response, "I wish you to keep the necklace; it need not signify betrothal at this time, but I would find it... meaningful, if it were to remain in your possession."

For a moment Bolin's eyes widened with panic, but the emotion was quickly eclipsed by relief. Eska wondered if Bolin had momentarily forgotten where he had stored the necklace. Then the smile returned to his face, but it was a different one than she was accustomed to seeing him wear; it seemed almost _shy._ "I-I'd be happy to keep it, Eska," he said, his cheeks reddening with some emotion she could not quite identify. "Thank you."

She did not ask him why he was thanking her, when she had been the one to ask a favor of him. Instead, she allowed a small portion of her pleasure at his response to show in the slight upward curve of her mouth. This caused Bolin's face to brighten considerably as his tentative smile was replaced by a wide, joyful one. It fascinated her to see how a display of emotion on her part could provoke such a profound effect on his demeanor. She liked it.

Silence stretched between them, and as usual, Bolin seemed compelled to fill it with words. "So, now that you're done in the water, how about we go for a walk on the beach? We could look for seashells, or –"

"Yes." Eska rose, waiting for him to offer her his arm. She had decided to leave her boots where they lay on the blanket. Though she was not accustomed to going barefoot outdoors, walking through water warm enough not to leave her frostbitten was a novel experience, and a pleasant one.

Bolin was at her side immediately, taking her hand in his rather than extending an elbow for her to hold. It was an acceptable substitution. His large, warm hands were surprisingly gentle for an earthbender of his physical strength. He twined their fingers together, occasionally stroking her thumb with his. "Pabu, you watch our stuff, okay?" he instructed the fire ferret. Then, at Eska's nod, he began to lead them across the beach.

The sun had shifted in the sky, casting their shadows inland as they walked along the shore. "You were going to tell me about the things you do in your free time back home?" Bolin asked.

This was a rather different question than his previous inquiry about the recreational activities common in her culture, but she chose to answer it regardless. "I have little unstructured time. In addition to my academic studies, Father requires that Desna and I adhere to a strict schedule of waterbending training, as well as my instruction in healing."

"Your brother doesn't have to learn healing too?"

Eska was struck briefly by the oddness of the question; if anything, she had expected him to ask how she had been permitted to learn waterbending, not why Desna was not required to learn to heal. "Our culture maintains a division of bending arts between the sexes. Women heal, men are taught martial bending. It was only because no amount of punishment would stop Desna from instructing me in the waterbending techniques he was learning that Father agreed to train me alongside him." She looked out at the sea, where the early afternoon sun sparkled on the waves. "I suppose he saw the value in having two waterbending children."

"That's kinda dumb," Bolin blurted. "I mean, anybody who can bend should be able to learn how, right? And healing just seems really useful. Why wouldn't everybody want to learn it?"

Eska might have been offended by his unrestrained criticism of her culture – if she had not nurtured the same sentiments for some time. "I am fortunate."

Bolin shrugged. "Anyway, now that you're here, I can show you all the fun things to do here in Republic City!" He began rattling off a list of recreational pastimes, most of which sounded either dull or pointless, though there were a handful that seemed tolerable. If anyone had asked, she would have claimed it was mere coincidence that the latter were the ones about which Bolin expressed the greatest enthusiasm.

As they continued walking, she noticed that Bolin had developed an odd sort of limp to his gait. "Are you injured?"

"No, I just –" He shook one foot. "I think I got sand in my shoe."

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "You could simply remove your footwear."

He shot her a stricken look. "But the spider-crabs!"

Eska was about drag him onward down the beach when a strange metal canister struck the sand in front of them. She turned to see where it had come from, but spotted only several dark shapes before the canister began spewing forth a thick green smoke that made it impossible to see. Bolin's grip on her hand tightened for an instant, before he disengaged to take up a defensive stance beside her; the smoke was dense enough that she could only barely see him. "Look out!" he warned her unnecessarily, coughing as he inhaled the smoke.

She reached instinctively for the surging waters of the bay, drawing a coil of water up and stretching it into an ice shield between them and their unseen foes. The maneuver gained her a few seconds' respite, and the brisk wind off the water rapidly dispersed the obscuring smoke. Any relief she may have experienced at the improved visibility was short-lived, as the clearing air revealed that their attackers had surrounded them, and that she and Bolin were outnumbered. A brief glance allowed her to count four dark-clad men squared off against her on the sand, and sounds from behind her indicated the existence of others facing Bolin.

They were fools to take on a waterbender at the edge of the ocean, and Eska was more than content to demonstrate the error of their decision. With a sweeping gesture, she called up a column of seawater and brought it down over the head of one of the men standing between her and the water's edge. If she could reach the shallows with Bolin, Eska would be able to extract them from the confrontation entirely.

The man she held pinioned with her bending struggled to hold his breath, unable to escape the crushing torrent. One of the attackers on the other side of the circle surrounding her executed a rapid kata that shot a burst of fire straight at Eska – she was forced to divert the water she had been using to drown the first assailant in order to intercept the blast. _Firebenders?_ Another of the men summoned a water whip and lashed it at her. With a violent gesture, Eska froze the whip in midair and shattered it, raining razor-sharp ice shards down on three of the attackers. The enemy waterbender took a step backward, fear painted across his face: wresting control of an element from another bender required considerable raw power and a great deal of skill, both of which Eska possessed in quantity. A wicked smile pulled at her mouth as her opponents began to realize what they were up against.

In their moment of distraction, Eska risked a glance behind her at Bolin. It was clear that he was unaccustomed to using sand as a weapon – an overreliance on sport-bending forms that she would have to correct – but she nodded in approval as his spinning crescent kick carried a heavy spray of sand into an enemy's eyes. Returning her attention to the foes facing her, Eska sent a volley of icicles at them with a slashing gesture. The firebender raised a shield of flame that blunted the force of her attack, and she scowled; he needed to be removed first.

Reaching toward the sea, she pulled a long, thick strand of water up out of the waves – and then another. The first water whip she brought forth between the attackers and herself, lashing at them and forcing them to dance out of her reach... but the second snaked behind them, below the line of their peripheral vision. She had to move quickly; the waterbender would soon notice that not all of her katas could be explained by the single visible water whip. Her hidden tendril coiled around the firebender's body and she froze it before he could cry out, imprisoning him within a block of ice. Eska grinned in vicious satisfaction; he might free himself before hypothermia overcame him, but he was no longer a concern. She would keep the waterbender far too busy to come to his aid.

Behind her, Eska heard a sickening _crack_ , and spared a look over her shoulder at the other half of the fight. It appeared that Bolin had dispensed with his attempts at sand-bending entirely in favor of simple physical violence; one of the attackers reeled backward, clutching a bloody and broken nose. Pleased, she turned back to her own adversaries.

One of them brandished a metal glove that sparked and crackled with lightning. _Fool._ She flicked a narrow tongue of water up and around his metal-sheathed right hand, the saltwater wrapping the device and his arm in an almost loving caress. The man spasmed, his body seizing under the bite of his own electricity, and he collapsed to the sand. With a wide, sweeping gesture, Eska gathered a thicker stream of water around her, spinning and swirling for her next attack.

"Surrender, or the boy dies."

Eska froze. Fear grasped its icy claw around her chest. Slowly, she turned toward the source of the voice. One of the attackers had Bolin. His arms were locked painfully behind his back, and the enemy held a long knife to his exposed throat.

"No, Eska! Don't let them –" The knife pressed roughly against the tender flesh covering his windpipe, hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The torrent of water still held under her will roiled tumultuously around her, but no strike she could unleash would move faster than her enemy's blade. Nor could she be certain of her ability to remove Bolin from the reach of these men quickly enough to heal him before he lost too much blood. She had only one choice.

She released her hold on the water, allowing it to splash harmlessly to the sand at her feet.

"Don't! Get out of here!" Bolin shouted, desperate entreaty in his eyes.

Her own expression softened as she regarded him, wondering how he could imagine that she would do anything but this. "I promised to protect you, my feeble turtle-duck." Then a rag doused with chemicals was pressed over her mouth and nose, and the world faded to gray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, cliffhanger! Expect the next chapter on Friday.


	6. Chapter 6

Bolin wasn't very good at telling time with a dark, musty-smelling bag pulled over his head, his hands tied behind his back, and his insides churning with a sickly combination of anger, terror, and self-loathing – so he didn't know exactly how long the speedboat ride took, or where they were when it was over. All he knew was that the whole way to the wooden shed where they left him, he didn't hear the slightest sound from Eska.

They didn't remove the bag until he was securely shackled to the wall. The man whose nose he'd broken cuffed him roughly across the mouth before the thug was led out of the room by one of his companions. He tasted blood. The men slammed the door behind them, and Bolin heard the click of a latch being thrown. Outside, the hum of the speedboat motor receded into the distance. He was alone.

His prison was a single, rectangular room with walls, floor, and roof made entirely of sturdy wooden planks. There were no lights, but a few knotholes and poorly-fitted joints in the carpentry let in a bit of sun, just enough to see by. His eyes were already dark-adjusted, thanks to the bag. The building wasn't new, but it had been emptied of any previous contents – and from the look of the floor on which he sat, swept clean of any lingering dirt. The shackles pinning his wrists to the wall were new, though; despite the dampness of the air, they showed no trace of rust, and gleamed when a finger of sunlight struck them. He reached out with his earthbending awareness, but felt no earth or stone beneath the shed. That, and the gentle lapping of waves outside, suggested the building was at the end of a wooden pier. The perfect cage for an earthbender.

 _If I could metalbend, I'd have no problem getting out of here,_ he thought bitterly. He studied the shackles that held his arms pinioned to the wall. Each one was secured in place by two pairs of long carpentry screws driven deep into the stud-beams that anchored the walls – one pair on the hinge, the other holding the clasp. They were fastened with padlocks, and obviously there was no sign of a key anywhere in the room. Tugging and twisting against the shackles accomplished nothing but bruising his wrists, so he gave that up fairly quickly. 

_They must have been targeting us in particular. This place is designed to hold an earthbender, and they had that stuff they used to drug Eska._ He wasn't sure whether the kidnappers had used the drug on her because she was their real target, or just because she was the bigger threat. He couldn't decide which case was worse: if she was the one they wanted, that couldn't mean anything good for her. But if she wasn't, then she was an unconscious young woman at the mercy of dangerous criminals. His imagination shied away from the possibilities of what that could mean for her. Left with nothing else to focus on, his thoughts turned inward.

 _What's wrong with me?_ He leaned his head back against the wall of the shed, closing his eyes. _Whenever things get really dangerous, I always seem to prove that I can't cut it._ He remembered, with a sickening lurch in his gut, being captured by Amon's Equalists and thrown in a cell to wait helplessly for his bending to be stripped from him. He'd had to rely on Mako and Korra to save him then – _But they're not coming this time. Korra's off in the spirit world somewhere, and Mako's probably not gonna wonder where I am for_ days _, after that fight we had._ There was no one to help him.

 _And now Eska's in danger because I couldn't take care of myself._ She could have taken out the entire group if he hadn't been there, or at least escaped into the bay with her waterbending. _She only got captured because I'm a liability._ When he closed his eyes, he could see the way she'd looked at him, moments before they'd knocked her out. Her eyes had held no blame, no anger at his failure; only tenderness. Without a moment's hesitation, she'd given herself up to save him – and now he had no way to save her. _She should never have come after me,_ he thought miserably. _She'd have been better off without me. She should've left me on that beach. Then she wouldn't be..._ With a roar of impotent rage, he struggled frantically against his bindings. The cold metal bit into his skin as he screamed his throat raw, but nothing came of it.

At last he slumped against the wall, his head hanging between his shoulders; he lacked even the will to keep his eyes open. "You're pathetic, Bolin. You know that? Pathetic. Eska's out there somewhere, with who-knows-what happening to her–" No, he couldn't even think it "–and you're sitting here, chained to a wall in a wooden box, with a bleeding lip and sand in your shoe, feeling sorry for yourself. Useless."

There was no response but the faint echo of his voice off the walls of the shed.

His eyes snapped open.

_Sand._

Using the opposite foot to rub against, he worked his shoe heel out of the stirrup of his gaiter and slipped off the shoe. He tapped the back of the heel against the floor a couple of times before withdrawing his toes, feeling the grains of sand slip down and collect against the back of the shoe. Biting his lip, he tipped them carefully out onto the wooden floor until he was staring at a small, neat pile of sand. _No wonder my shoe was uncomfortable,_ he thought giddily.

The elation of his success quickly faded. _Okay, I have earth. Now what can I do with it?_ The fight on the beach had proven that he couldn't pack the same force when bending sand as he could with rock; the grains just slipped around each other and dispersed the power of the impact. He needed a different approach. _Sand. How do I use sand?_ The back of his head thunked lightly against the wall behind him as he thought. When he didn't manage to beat any brilliant ideas into his head that way, he let his mind wander, casting about for any association with "sand" he could think of. _Sand castles, sandbox, sandwiches, sandpaper, sand fleas – Sandpaper!_ Back when he and Mako lived in the attic above the pro-bending gym, one of the jobs Toza gave him was maintaining the training equipment, which included sanding down any burrs or scuffs on the wooden practice dummies and metal targets.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the shackles that held him. Trying to sand through the thick metal bands would take forever, but... the screws. Leaning as far to one side as he could, he peered at the screw heads, and grinned at what he saw: the shackles had been installed in a hurry, and the screws hadn't been driven in flush with the plate. There was just a tiny gap, but it would be enough.

Then he discovered just how _hard_ it was to bend with his wrists restrained. His earthbending style relied on big, powerful gestures and strikes. Trying to get the pile of sand on the floor to respond to his will by waggling his fingers at it was like trying to eat dumplings doused in slippery sauce while holding the chopsticks by their very back tips. But harder. The way the sand slithered and flowed around itself, it was almost more like water than earth...

 _That's it!_ Bolin's bending technique had always taken a few cues from firebending, both because of the speed and agility he needed in the pro-bending ring and due to Mako's influence when Bolin was first learning to earthbend – but now he needed to think like a waterbender. He remembered the way Eska summoned little streams of water, to fill her message bottle or to brush away the spider-crab, with just a flick of her fingertips. That was what he had to do.

He concentrated on the sand, trying to see it as a fluid, rather than as a pile of tiny rocks. He imagined moving the sand as a single unit, like a chain or a ribbon that he could coax up toward him with a simple gesture. A tiny thread of sand drifted up, like a snake raising its head from the grass. He smiled encouragingly at it and called it closer, beckoning with the fingers of one hand. The sand trickled through the air in response to his summons; not daring to breathe, Bolin guided it into the space where the first screw head that secured the hinge failed to meet the metal plate of his right shackle.

Letting his earthbending senses guide him, he closed his eyes and nudged the sand further into the bore-hole driven by the screw, letting the grains tumble and scrape against the screw's threading and the surrounding wood. Back and forth he urged the sand with little gestures from his fingers, wearing away a bit more metal and wood with each pass. Gradually he noticed that the sand grains were moving more freely, as though they had more space. When he guessed that the space had gotten wide enough, he called the sand out of the first hole and guided it under the second screw, giving this one the same treatment. Under and around, over and against, stripping the threading and grinding down the wood.

The process wasn't quick. Bolin had no way to tell the time, but the longer it took, the more urgency he felt. He tugged at the shackle; it jiggled, but held. _We'll see about that._ Planting his feet firmly on the floor and straightening his spine so that his shoulders pressed flush against the wall, he inhaled deeply – and _pulled_. 

His biceps flexed and strained. His shoulders cried out in protest. The metal band tore into the flesh of his wrist. And the hinge gave way.

As soon as his arm was free, Bolin immediately set to working on the other shackle. He scooped up a large pinch of the remaining sand and sent it seeping into the gap left by one of the screws with his bending. The sand swirled around the screw, wearing it down, widening the hole it pierced in the beam. He repeated the process on the final screw, twisting and spinning the sand more quickly this time. When he felt the metal shift under his wrist, his patience ran out. Bracing himself against the floor and wall, he yanked against the restraint. It dug into his arm, drawing blood, but didn't yield. _Try again._ He turned to face the wall, propping one foot against it for leverage, and clasped his hands together. This time he put his entire body into the task, pushing with his braced leg, straining with both arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain in his wrist as it felt like his hand was being torn off – and so was unprepared when the screws pulled free from the wall, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Bolin was on his feet again in an instant, pausing only briefly to replace his shoe before approaching the door. The shed hadn't been built as a prison, and the door wasn't good for much more than keeping out the rain and discouraging anyone who might wander by looking for something to steal. A single sharp kick burst it open, leaving it hanging awkwardly from a single hinge.

He was free.

Stepping out of the shed, he looked around, trying to get a sense of where he was and how to find his former captors. As he'd suspected, he stood on the end of a narrow wooden pier, far enough from the city that there was little sign of water traffic. The only thing nearby was a large boathouse with large doors that stood open to the bay. Sounds of activity drifted toward him on the breeze from inside the structure. It was an imposing-looking building, sturdily constructed to withstand the typhoons that pounded the Republic City coastline every year.

Sturdily constructed _out of brick_.

He felt his hands curl into fists at his sides. _Time to find Eska._

There were no guards on his shed, or on the side of the boathouse facing it. Though this was lucky for his escape, it worried Bolin. _It means they don't care about me – I was just in the way. They were after her._ He started carefully up the pier, keeping an eye on the boathouse. It was a good thing he was watching: standing beside the doors on the land-side of the boathouse were a pair of men in the same dark outfits as the group who attacked them on the beach. He had no idea how many more they could summon from inside if they spotted him. Slowly he retreated back along the pier. _Guess I'm going for a swim._

The water was warm, at least. If he'd been in the mood to appreciate it, he would've found it a nice change from winter in the South Pole, where he'd been just a few days ago. Right now, though, all he cared about was how quickly and quietly he could get across to the side of the boathouse, preferably without being seen. Luck was with him, and in no time he was reaching out to grasp the rough, barnacled brickwork of his goal. The boathouse had windows, but they were up high, just below the roof of the building – where they could let in plenty of light, but nobody could look inside. _Well, that's the idea, anyway._ He ran a hand over the bricks again, earthbending a handhold for himself as far up the wall as he could reach. Bracing his feet against the wall, he pulled himself up with one arm and lifted his other hand to bend another handhold. It didn't take Bolin long to scale the wall that way, and he pulled himself up to one of the high windows, peering down at the scene within.

He was about two stories above the water, and now that he was on a level with the window he could see the reason for the height: moored inside was a yacht, about the same size as the one on which he'd made his escape from the South Pole – not that Bolin knew enough about fancy rich-people boats to notice differences between them. What drew his attention about this one wasn't its size or obvious cost or anything else about the yacht itself, but what he saw on the main deck. Rage boiled up inside him, and for a brief moment his vision went red. His fingers sank into the bricks under his hands. _I have to get down there,_ now.

Before he was even aware of making a decision, the quiet peace of the bay was shattered by the thundering roar of rending masonry. A ribbon of brickwork peeled itself away from the wall, carrying Bolin forward like a cresting wave as it reached out to the yacht below. Another crash echoed through the boathouse as the bridge of stone shattered against the deck of the vessel, leaving him standing in the midst of a pile of rubble and a rising cloud of mortar dust.

He was not alone. Two dark-clad men had been working to secure a large winch at the prow of the boat, and now turned to face the sudden attack. Beside the mechanism was Eska. Her feet were encased in a block of cement that reached nearly to her knees; a chain sunk into the cement connected it to a similar block that engulfed her hands, preventing her from bending the waters that surrounded the yacht. She had ducked her head when the section of wall smashed against the deck, but now her eyes locked on his – no, on something over his shoulder. "Bolin! Behind you!"

He whirled to face the new attacker, kicking up a heavy chunk of masonry with a stomp of his foot on the deck boards. The man, not one of the attackers that Bolin remembered from earlier, charged at him with a fist cocked back, and Bolin propelled the piece of brickwork forward at his chest.

"Hold it!"

The familiar voice startled Bolin enough to make him drop his control of the rock, which careened into the thug's torso on momentum alone. But he was no longer paying attention to the man; his gaze shifted past the collapsing assailant to the figure behind him, who had spoken.

Varrick.

He blinked in confusion. _What's Varrick doing here? Is this_ his _boat?_ "Varrick, what's going on?"

Varrick stepped slowly toward him, navigating around the rubble strewn across the deck, his empty hands held before him in an appeasing gesture. "It's okay, Bolin – this is all just one big misunderstanding."

It was hard to see what exactly there was to misunderstand about kidnapping, but Varrick sounded so friendly and reasonable. And besides, this was _Varrick._ Why would he be involved in something like this? "Then explain it to me," Bolin replied, still half-in and half-out of his fighting stance.

With a wolfish smile, Varrick draped a companionable arm around Bolin's shoulders. "So, here's the problem," he began. "The South is in trouble, and the President refuses to send troops or support to oppose Unalaq because he sees it as an internal Water Tribe matter, right?" At Bolin's tentative nod, he continued. "So what we need to do is make it _not_ an internal problem anymore! If we can get Unalaq to turn some of his attention to Republic City, it'll take the heat off Tonraq's rebels _and_ force the President to commit to military action. With the attacks on my ships preventing us from sending weapons South, the only way to help Tonraq's people is by getting Unalaq to come to us."

That much made a certain sort of sense, and Korra's people _did_ need their help, but... "And you want to use Eska to do that?"

Varrick's expression shifted, taking on a sad and regretful cast. "I know it's terrible, but this is war, big guy. If she turns up drowned on the shores of Yue Bay, her father's going to assume she was killed by Southern-sympathizing waterbenders in Republic City. It's the only way to provoke him into expanding his reach. Then he'll send his fleet up here, the President will have to act, and we might be able to get some ships past to bring supplies to the rebels!"

Bolin tossed Varrick's arm off his shoulder and stared at him, horrified. "You can't _kill_ her!" His fists clenched hard enough to pop the knuckles.

Unfazed, Varrick shrugged. "One life for how many Southerners liberated? That's why there was the whole thing with you in the storage shed, by the way – I didn't want you to get involved. That way, you could honestly tell the police that you did everything you could to stop it. We can still make this work, but we'll need to keep you away from the cops until the investigation is over; your poker face still needs some work."

"No! This is not happening!" The fragments of brick on the deck shook under the force of his protest as he backed away.

Varrick sidled up close to him again. "Bolin, buddy, I know what you've been going through. Forced marriage to your crazy stalker ex? That's not something I'd wish on anybody. Think of this as a second chance. We can help the Southern Water Tribe, _and_ you get out from under the claws of the psycho water-witch over there. Sound good?" Varrick grinned knowingly.

An image flashed through Bolin's mind: Eska's face as she turned and saw him in the thug's grip, with that cold knife pressing against the big vein in his neck. He remembered the fury, the horror, the resignation, and the – caring, that chased each other through her eyes before she dropped her waterbending and let them take her.

"Don't say that about _my girlfriend!_ " His fist caught Varrick hard across the jaw, sending the man hurtling to the deck. Bolin didn't wait to watch Xiu Li help him to his feet; he spun around to face Varrick's remaining lackeys. One of them was still manning the winch, while the other advanced on him.

"Drop her!" he heard Varrick shout behind him. During their exchange, the thugs had connected the winch cable to the chain joining the cement blocks that held Eska, and hauled her up over the railing of the boat. At the command, the man standing by the apparatus threw the lever that released the cable, and Eska began to fall. Bolin's fist lashed out, his panic-fueled surge of bending shattering both blocks.

Eska only just disappeared past the level of the rail before a waterspout big enough to rock the ship caught her, depositing her back onto the deck beside Bolin just as the thug closed distance with him. It was another firebender, and Bolin shifted his feet to dodge out of the way of the flaming fists headed toward him – when a torrent of water battered the attacker from the side, sending him spinning off the opposite end of the boat. He thought he heard the man bounce off the railing as he went over, and winced.

The winch operator slid on one of those electrified metal gloves and dove at Eska, reaching out for her with the crackling energy that wreathed his hand. _No way._ Bolin raised one of the larger slabs of broken wall straight into his path, and heard the _crunch_ of the man's gloved hand as it impacted the stone at full speed. He didn't spare this one any sympathy.

A commotion from behind them drew Bolin's attention. More dark-clad men were pouring up from the lower decks of the yacht, and assembling on the shore of the boathouse. _Eight, ten, twelve..._ He stopped counting after twenty. _This is bad._ He glanced over at Eska; she seemed to be reaching the same conclusion. As the first wave of enemies approached them, they found themselves backing up toward the prow of the boat. They didn't have much space to retreat; Bolin felt his hip brush against the deck rail. "Eska, I –"

"Trust me." She phrased it as a statement, but it was clear she was waiting for an answer from him.

"What?" He looked at her. There was little he could read in her face; her expression was a blank mask of determination. Still, he didn't hesitate. "Yeah – yes, I trust you."

She turned, grasping the railing, and leaped up to perch barefoot on it for a moment. Grabbing the back of his collar in her other hand, Eska dove over the side, hauling Bolin along with her before he could even yelp in surprise.

This time, the water didn't rise up to catch them. On the contrary – it seemed to fall away from beneath them, like a trap door, and when the sea closed over their heads, it trapped a bubble of air along with them. With her free hand, Eska traced slow, undulating circles in front of her, maintaining the bending that captured this pocket of breathable air below the surface. She released his shirt, pressing a finger over his lips, and he got her message clear enough: _don't waste air talking._ Eska wasn't an airbender, who could refresh the bubble and allow them to breathe indefinitely. They would have to surface in a matter of minutes, and they needed to be somewhere safe to do it. That meant getting out of the boathouse and further out to sea.

You had to be a strong swimmer to play pro-bending, so Bolin was able to keep up with Eska pretty well as they swam away from the boathouse, away from the shore. The light shimmering above them dimmed a little as they moved deeper, out of sight from Varrick's waterbenders. The respite, however brief, gave Bolin the chance to start processing what had happened on the yacht – which sent his head reeling again. _Varrick._ Bolin had _thought_ the man was his friend. Varrick was always so generous with his wealth, so free with compliments, always telling Bolin how much potential he had or how natural he was at one thing or another. He'd thought Varrick was on their side when he'd helped them escape Unalaq's forces. Had he really been playing them all along? Swallowing against the angry tightness in his throat, Bolin felt his face burn with embarrassment and betrayal.

Eska touched his arm, and when he looked at her, she pointed above them, toward the surface. A shadow moved above them, large and dark. Varrick's yacht, moving out into open water. He wasn't sure whether the boat was searching for them or trying to escape the fallout of a failed kidnapping – but neither option sounded good to him. When Eska's hand closed around his wrist, trying to lead him away, he pulled back against the pressure. She looked at him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity, and he pointed down, deeper, toward the bottom of the bay. They didn't have the time or air to argue; she followed him. The pocket of air around them contracted under the increasing pressure as they descended.

Touching his feet to the sandy surface of the sea floor centered something in Bolin. He looked up, seeing the shadow almost directly above them. _Well, here goes nothing._ The movements of his bending kata were oddly sluggish with the resistance of the water, but it had no effect on the power of his earthbending. One foot planted firmly in the soft sand, one arm thrust upward at the distant sky, and a spire of stone shot up from the seabed, jutting from the earth at a slight angle to pierce the lower hull of the yacht above them like a fisherman's spear through the side of a carp. The ship didn't stop immediately, its engines dragging it forward across the sharp finger of stone, tearing a long rent in its hull. Huge bubbles surged from the wound as seawater rushed in to displace the air inside. Bolin stood and admired his handiwork for a moment, and it slowly dawned on him that he was starting to feel a little lightheaded. Eska grabbed his shirt front and dragged him up toward the surface.

They broke into the air, gasping, a few dozen yards from the foundering yacht. When the inside of his head started feeling less fuzzy, Bolin looked around; they were a fair distance from the boathouse, but it would only be a moderately long swim back to shore. It looked like they were closer to the city proper now, with the big commercial docks just visible farther down the coastline. A series of loud splashes drew his attention – small boats were being launched from the yacht as its crew abandoned it. He spotted a familiar figure against the afternoon glare. "There's Varrick!"

Eska's eyes narrowed, locking on the speedboat as it pulled away from the wreck. She shot out a hand, making a gripping gesture. Ice encased the propeller blades of the boat's outboard motor, and even at this distance they could hear the sputtering choke the motor made as it died. "He will answer for his crimes."

Confusion and hurt churned inside Bolin's stomach, making him feel sick. _Varrick's not my friend. Varrick tried to kill Eska._ "Yeah, he will. We should take him to Chief Beifong." He tried to imagine how he was going to explain to the rather intimidating police chief what had happened. Varrick would probably talk his way out of it, he realized with a sinking feeling. Varrick could talk his way out of almost anything. How were they ever going to get the police to believe their story instead of his?

Another of the boats crossed into his line of sight, paddled by a handful of the dark-garbed men. His eyes lit up with an idea. "No, wait!" he told Eska, grabbing her arm as she was about to start bending again. "We should grab _those guys_ instead!"

The look she turned on him was half incredulous, half annoyed. "They are insignificant."

"Yeah, but I bet they'll sell Varrick out so the cops will go easy on them!" It was something he'd picked up by observation back when he and Mako ran with the Triple Threats: hired muscle was only so reliable. If things went bad, the employer ran the risk of having hired thugs testify against them in exchange for a lighter sentence. It was why the Triads preferred using their own people for most jobs. He only hoped the same rules applied in the world of corporate crime.

Eska was unconvinced. "Varrick will not escape."

"Where's he gonna go?" Bolin retorted. "The yacht's beyond help, and you just killed his boat. He'll have to go back to the city to find a way out, and then the police will get him." The more he talked, the more Bolin started to think this might actually be a good idea.

After a long, measuring glance, Eska nodded. "Very well." She turned her body in the water, facing the approaching rowboat, and raised her arms in a sweeping gesture. A vortex of water encircled the craft, lifting it into the air, and then froze. The boat – and the men inside it – were trapped in a giant fishbowl made of ice, its inward-curving sides too high for them to climb out. She set it back onto the water and gave it a nudge toward shore with her bending. They swam after it in silence.

When they reached the shore, Eska floated the fishbowl-boat up out of the water and followed Bolin up the beach, but hesitated when the sand gave way to pavement. He turned to look at her when she stopped. "What's wrong?"

The disgust was plain on her face. He followed her gaze downward to the cobbled street, covered with its usual dusting of food wrappers, broken glass, and general filth. Then he realized that her feet, still planted firmly in the sand at the verge of the pavement, were bare. _That's right, she took off her boots back at the picnic, where we left our stuff and – oh no, Pabu!_ "Should we go back, and get Pabu and your shoes and everything?"

Eska took a deep breath and shook her head. "I will manage." She looked up at his face, and must have seen the worry there, because she added, "And I'm sure your pet will be fine until we return, after we complete our business with the authorities."

"You don't think they went back and took him, do you?" How could he have forgotten about Pabu for so long?

"We were some distance away from the site of our meal when they found us, and the ferret did not appear to play a role in their plans," she told him. "He will be all right."

 _She's probably right. Pabu's a tough little guy; he can take care of himself._ Bolin smiled at her. "Thanks. Here –" He scooped her up into his arms, settling her gently into a bridal carry. The move must have surprised her, as Eska let out a yelp, and the ice prison behind them bobbed precariously before she recovered.

"This is unnecessary," she protested. "I am capable of walking."

"Don't worry about it," he said, grinning. "What you're carrying is a lot heavier and not nearly as nice. I don't mind."

She craned her neck to take another look at the ground. That must have decided her, because she reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck, making herself comfortable. "Very well. Take us to the police headquarters."

"You got it!" And off they went, drawing no few odd stares at the spectacle they were dragging behind them.

Things at the police station went more smoothly than he'd feared. He guessed that city officials were really keen on avoiding a diplomatic incident, because when Eska mentioned her royal title and described the kidnapping and attempted murder, there were cops falling all over themselves to take her statement and make her comfortable. Squads were sent out to search for Varrick as soon as Eska's captive kidnappers had – as he had expected – spilled everything they knew. Bolin didn't exactly get the same royal treatment, but at least someone brought him a hot cup of tea and nobody spoke to him like they suspected him of something. Chief Beifong herself took his statement, and he struggled to recall every detail that might possibly be relevant. He didn't see Mako anywhere around the station, but it was late in the day; maybe he had already gotten off work.

A patrol car was assigned to take them back to the beach for their things, and then drive them home. Initially there was no sign of Pabu, and Bolin was on the edge of working himself into a panic until he heard a soft _burp_ from inside the picnic basket. He looked inside to find one well-fed fire ferret and no remaining noodles or sandwiches. Meanwhile, Eska retrieved her boots with much relief, using her waterbending to clean and dry her feet before putting them back on. Bolin made sure to thank the police officer who drove them back to the apartment he shared with Mako, because Eska sometimes... forgot that sort of thing. He took out his key and let them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story progresses, I'll be trying to stay relatively close to the events of the canon with things that happen offscreen, though the changes that have already happened will affect their outcome. Of course, small ripples early on may create pretty sizable waves later...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter of the "buffer" I had before I started posting, so there may be a little more time between updates going forward. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long, though! This is also the point at which the rating starts to creep up at little (though not as quickly as I'd initially expected). Really though, the writers provided me with a _hot tub_. I would have been sorely remiss in my responsibilities as a fic-writer not to take advantage of that gift. Enjoy.

The residence was unoccupied when they entered, which suited Eska. As Bolin set down the basket containing his pet, she crossed to the large tub in the center of the room and turned the taps on. It was clearly designed for recreation rather than utility, but it would serve her purposes well enough. When Bolin raised a curious expression toward her, she straightened. "Come here."

"What's going on?"

She caught his hand and lifted it, turning it to expose the inside of his forearm. His wrist was covered with dark, mottled bruising and crusted with fresh scabs. The other, she remembered, looked much the same. "You are injured," she told him. "Remove your clothes."

His face reddened at the order, which she found odd; had he never been to a healer before? "I-it's okay, Eska, I'm fine, really."

"I will determine that." Hiding an injury was a common way to conceal weakness, and she would not have him go without proper treatment after the way he had risked himself for her sake.

"I'm not hurt anywhere else – I'd tell you. You think I'm trying to keep you from fussing over me?" He grinned at her. "I _love_ being fussed over."

"Then cooperate."

He seemed to have no answer for that, and removed his belt before beginning to unfasten his jacket with only a hint of unease. The shirt followed, leaving Bolin in just his pants and a sleeveless white undershirt.

She glanced meaningfully at the quickly-filling tub. "Haven't you had enough of wet clothing today?"

"I, uh..." He did not seem to have an answer for that, and soon his pants lay pooled around his ankles; he stepped out of them.

Eska touched the lower hem of his undershirt. "This as well." His blush deepening, he quickly handed it over, and stood before her in only his undershorts. She took the tank top from him and turned her back, facing away from him as she pulled her long tunic up over her head. Next came the bindings that supported her breasts, and she pulled on Bolin's undershirt to cover herself. She discarded her own trousers, leaving her undergarment in place, and turned to face him again – only to find Bolin standing with his hands clapped over his eyes.

As impatient as she was to get Bolin in the tub and tend to his injuries, she couldn't help simply standing there for a moment and taking in the sight of him. _Examining him for wounds,_ she told herself. His toned calves and thick, powerful thighs did not appear to have suffered any harm in the day's battles. Neither did the firm, sculpted panels of his abdomen. Her view of his chest was largely obstructed by his arms, but those hard, well-muscled arms were – 

_Injured,_ she reminded herself. She reached out and tugged his hands away from his face. "Get in," she instructed, pushing him toward the tub.

Bolin didn't move right away. His eyes swept up and down her body slowly, drinking her in. He was flushing brightly, but now that he had seen her, he appeared unable to pull himself away. Eska was aware that the neck of his tank top, already fairly deeply scooped, fell even lower on her smaller frame, and judging by the way his eyes lingered on the upper curves of her breasts, he found the effect pleasing. But he could appreciate her body just as easily while she healed him. "Now," she urged.

Still he hesitated. "Wait, shouldn't we scrub off first? Y'know, so we don't get the water dirty?"

"This will have to suffice," she replied. "I can easily empty and replace the water if you wish to remain after the healing is finished." But there was something else beyond hygienic concerns that made him uneasy. "You don't wish to share this activity with me."

"No, I do! That's... kinda part of the problem." He sighed, and words began flowing out of him all at once. "See, the thing is, you're really pretty. And we've been getting along so well the past couple of days, and I don't want to do anything to screw that up, especially after everything we've just been through – and I'm still kind of freaking out over some of the stuff that happened back there, so I don't even know if I could _do_ the things I'd wanna do, if I thought you wanted to do them, anyway. It's confusing."

Rather than try to pick apart his entire tangle of problems, Eska thought it best to take them one at a time. "Let me 'fuss over' you, and then we'll talk. Agreed?"

He gave her a fond half-smile. "Yeah, okay." With that, he climbed into the tub. She followed him, slipping smoothly into the steaming water. When she reached for his left hand, pulling it toward her to expose his injury, he did not resist.

Bands of dark bruising covered an area wider than her palm stretching from just below the heel of his hand, and angry stripes of red stretched across the bruises, some only half scabbed-over. Grasping his hand firmly in one of hers, she lowered the wounded skin below the surface of the water and summoned the healing energies around her other hand. "How did this happen?"

Bolin shrugged. "They chained me to a wall. I was able to loosen the manacles a bit, but I had to force them the rest of the way."

When she looked more closely at his wounds, Eska could see the parallel lines that the shackles had carved in his arms. Two competing emotions welled up within her: a furious desire to punish the men who had caused Bolin these injuries, and an odd sort of warmth at the idea of him tearing free of his chains for her sake. She moved her right hand to skim across the contused skin of his forearm, bringing with it the soft glow of healing.

He reached out with his other hand to grab her wrist. "Hey, where did these come from?" He had noticed the peppering of shallow scratches and punctures that ringed her arms, just above where the cement had encased them. Her calves bore a similar set of marks, as her bare skin had been unprotected from the shattering blocks.

"It's nothing," she said flatly.

Worry creased his brow; he must have noticed the neat line that demarcated the upper edge of the cement and inferred the rest. "I did this, didn't I? I'm sorry, Eska, I –"

"Don't be foolish," she snapped at him. "They are inconsequential and easily healed. You have no need to apologize." Her voice softened. "You saved me."

"Hey, don't sound so surprised," he said gently, and she felt his arm slip out of her grasp and wrap around her waist. "Of course I was gonna come help you. I'm just glad I got there in time. I was imagining all sorts of horrible things that could've been happening to you – they _didn't_ happen, did they? I mean, are you all right? They didn't...?"

She shook her head once. "I suffered no further harm. But you did." Twisting slightly in his arms, she raised one hand to his face and brushed her thumb against the cut on his lip.

He gave her a rueful grin, wincing a little as the expression pulled at his torn lip. "Yeah, one of those guys _thanked_ me for breaking his nose. It's no big deal, though – I've gotten worse in the pro-bending ring."

Eska dipped her hand into the water, pooling healing energy around her first two fingers, and raised them to his lips, soothing away the cut and swelling. Catching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her fingers, but she pulled out of his grip. "I'm not finished." She placed her finger under his chin, tipping his head back to expose the nick where the kidnapper's blade had bitten into his throat. It was a tiny cut, already starting to close, but she hated seeing it – hated the reminder that he had been in such danger. The wound was gone with a touch of her fingers.

She moved on to his arms. His left was still coiled around her body, so she reached for his right forearm instead. The damage to this one was slightly less severe, but it still looked raw and sore. Immersing his arm, she passed her hand over it beneath the surface of the water and willed the bruising to subside and the torn flesh to knit together.

"That feels kinda nice," he said, the grin returning to his face. "Sort of tingly – in a good way, though, not a pins-and-needles way." He lifted his gaze to her, and the look in his eyes was strange, as though he were seeing something he hadn't noticed before. "Y'know, you can be really gentle when you want to be."

Unsure how to respond to that remark, Eska lowered her eyes to her work. The skin of Bolin's forearm now bore only the faint yellow discoloration of fading bruises and the narrow white lines of healing scars; both would disappear by the next day. "Give me your other arm," she instructed him.

Instead of releasing his hold on her, Bolin shifted her in front of him, curling his newly-healed forearm around her stomach and baring the left arm for her, palm up, below the rippling surface of the water. Her back pressed lightly against his firm, broad chest, and his legs parted to allow her to sit between them on the bench seat built into the tub. The position was quite satisfactory to Eska. Reaching for the healing essence of the water around them, she held her hands over his remaining wounds. In moments, the skin was smooth and unbroken once again. Bolin flexed the arm, checking for residual soreness; with her back to him, Eska permitted herself to watch the process with interest. His arms were quite appealing.

"What about you?" he asked. His fingertips ghosted across the scratches on her right arm, not making direct contact as though he feared his touch would hurt her.

"It would ease your mind if I healed them?"

He nodded against her shoulder, wrapping both arms around her midsection. "I don't like that you got hurt." His breath was warm against her skin. "I don't like that any of it happened..."

The water around her hands glowed as she quickly healed the scrapes on her arms and legs, and she turned around in his arms, seating herself astride his lap. She tried to strike a soothing tone of voice, though she was uncertain that she achieved the desired effect. "What troubles you?"

Bolin sighed, slumping a little in the water. "Why would Varrick _do_ something like this? I thought he was helping us – I thought I could trust him!"

"He wished to draw your city into the conflict between the Water Tribes – a conflict he helped to foment," she replied, considering the implications as she spoke. "Either he genuinely supports the Southern cause and believes that the support of the United Forces is necessary to achieve their goals, or he stands to profit by the expansion of hostilities."

She watched Bolin chew his lip thoughtfully. "It was his idea for Asami to start selling her mecha-tanks to the Southern Water Tribe, and they were using his shipping company to transport them. He probably made some money off of that, right?"

Eska lifted an eyebrow at the mention of the mecha-tanks, but did not comment on the information. "Likely. And that is undoubtedly not the extent of his plans, if he is engaging in war profiteering."

His expression drooped further. "You think this is just all about money for Varrick?"

"Wealth is a kind of power," Eska explained, "and one does not amass large quantities of power without being ruthless." She had learned that from years of firsthand observation.

The depth of sadness in Bolin's eyes when he looked up at her distressed Eska. "I thought he cared about me. He said I was talented, that I was going places, that I had a future. But he was just using me, wasn't he? None of it was real." It hurt to see him so despondent. Eska immediately regretted her decision that afternoon not to capsize Varrick's speedboat and drown him then and there.

But Varrick was not present, and Bolin was. She struggled to find a way to erase the hurt from his face. "Manipulation is most effective when it uses more truth than lies," she told him – another lesson learned at her father's knee. "He may have been using you, but he would only have done so if he saw something of value in you." She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "The things he said about you were true, even if he used those truths to deceive you. _He_ is the one unworthy of _your_ friendship."

Her words must have reached something in him, for Bolin hugged her tightly, his eyes squeezed shut and his cheek pressing against her collarbone. Eska ran her fingers through his hair in the way she knew soothed him. But even as his too-rapid breathing began to calm under her touch, Eska felt the first stirrings of her own unease. By implication, she had – in her own thoughts, at least – compared Varrick to her father. The doubts that Bolin had planted in her mind the previous day began to creep forward again like the rising tide; she hoped Desna's response would arrive soon.

"I'm glad you came looking for me, Eska." The sentiment caught her by surprise, and a feeling of warmth bubbled up within her that had nothing to do with the steaming water surrounding them. Bolin lifted his head from her shoulder, coming up to face her so that his nose almost touched hers. There was no hesitation when he kissed her this time; the gesture seemed to flow forth from his emotions of its own volition. Eska's right hand slipped down from his hair to cradle the back of his head, drawing him deeper into the kiss as their lips parted and their tongues met. She felt one of his hands feather its way up her spine, over her borrowed tank top, and come to rest between her shoulder blades.

In every touch, in every line of his body where it pressed against hers, Eska could feel the power of the emotions that moved within him. It was more than simple desire – though there _was_ that, as she could feel his stiffening arousal against her thigh. There was a gentleness in his caresses that spoke to a deeper regard for her, and she felt it call to something within herself as the Moon calls to the sea. Instinct urged her to give in to the pull, to open herself to the trembling feeling behind her breastbone and the tenderness of Bolin's touch.

_To master your element, you must first master yourself._ Her father's words rang clear and harsh in her mind's ear. It was the very first instruction he had given her upon the start of her formal waterbending training. Forcing the primal elements to submit to one's will required total control of the self. It had been a difficult lesson to learn, but it was one that she had practiced until even her father could find no fault in her discipline. She recoiled from the temptation to surrender that control now.

But pushing away this precious creature in her arms was equally impossible, especially in light of all that had passed between them today. So she did the only thing she _could_ do, the thing she knew best: she took control. She knelt up on the bench seat, putting a whisper of distance between her body and Bolin's, her back curved down to maintain the kiss as she pushed herself deeper into his mouth, as though she could mark him with her tongue. Her fingers in his hair curled into a fist, gripping him tightly enough to direct the movements of his head. She allowed her other hand to drift downward, fingernails scraping lightly across the wet skin of his neck and chest, leaving faint trails of red against his firm flesh.

He moaned softly into her mouth, evidently enjoying the turn that their embrace had taken. She broke the kiss, nipping lightly at his lower lip before releasing his mouth entirely, and pressed his face against the side of her neck. Bolin applied himself to this new task in earnest, kissing and nibbling a path from the base of her jaw to her clavicle. His other arm slipped up to join the first, cradling her upper back, fingers splayed to touch as much of her at once as he could. She closed her eyes, savoring the ministrations of his mouth and the heat of his hands – though the latter was muted by the fabric of the undershirt. _Easily solved._ Briefly releasing her hold on his hair, Eska reached down and pulled the bottom hem of the tank top up and over her head. It landed on the floor somewhere with a wet _plop_. As soon as it was gone, Bolin's hands and lips were back on her skin, his touch all the more electric for the interruption. Her guiding hand returned to the back of his head, directing him lower as she straightened her back, putting her breasts on a level with his face. With every bit of his usual enthusiasm, he bent his head to her nipple and swirled his tongue around the dusky nub. She gasped at the sensation, fist tightening in his hair, as she felt the tender flesh beneath his lips come erect at his touch. He began to suckle, sending a pulse of heat shooting through her body from her breast to somewhere deeper in her abdomen. She looked down onto his face; his eyes were closed, and his brows knitted with a focus so keen that she might have been the only thing in the world. The sight of him made the heat inside her smolder and flare.

He was so intent on her body that it came as no surprise to Eska when he failed to notice the soft rattle of the doorknob. She hardly had more time to react, only lifting her head toward the source of the noise before the door swung open, revealing his firebender brother standing in the doorway. The older boy was already halfway through the door by the time his eyes swept the room – and widened in shock at what they beheld. "What in the – ?"

Bolin's head shot up, abandoning her nipple, and he _shrieked_. "Mako!" he yelped, his voice two or three octaves higher than normal. He threw his hands over Eska's breasts to shield them from his brother's eyes – and then seemed to decide that this gesture did not substantially improve matters, snatching his hands away and moving to place his body in front of her. Eska simply lifted her hands to cover her breasts and glowered over Bolin's shoulder at the interloper.

The brother, meanwhile, had slammed the door and spun to face the wall, but being unable to look at them did little to blunt his indignation. "Seriously? You're in the _middle of the living room!_ You couldn't hang a sock on the door, at least?"

"We didn't exactly plan this!" Bolin protested. "It just sort of... happened. Eska wanted to heal me, and then one thing kinda led to another, and – and you have the worst timing _ever_ , by the way!"

"Wait, 'heal you'? What hap–" He turned back toward Bolin, concern evident in his features, but slapped a hand over his eyes when he saw that Eska was still undressed. "Could you guys _please_ put some clothes on and tell me what happened? There's something important I need to tell you about Varrick."

The set of Bolin's shoulders shifted, becoming tenser. "Is it that Varrick is a lying jerk who's playing the Water Tribes against each other to make money off the war? 'Cause we figured that one out." He stepped out of the tub and bent to retrieve Eska's tunic, holding it out to her.

She followed him out of the water, wicking the moisture away from her skin and hair with a gesture and returning it to the tub before accepting the garment and pulling it on. The tunic was long enough for decency, if only just, and she did not feel moved to bother with the trousers.

"What? When?" If Eska was reading him correctly, Bolin's brother couldn't decide whether to be glad that someone else knew the truth about Varrick, or disappointed at being unable to break the news himself.

"It's safe to look now," Bolin told him. He picked up the sodden undershirt from the floor and began trying to wring it out over the tub. Eska took it from him and waterbent it dry with a snap of the fabric. She felt a mild pang of regret as she watched him slip his arms and head into the tank top and pull it down over his chest and stomach. "And yeah, we found out about Varrick this afternoon, when he had us kidnapped and tried to kill Eska." There was a growl in his voice.

"Kidnapped? Hold on." His brother dropped his hand from his face, let out a relieved sigh upon seeing that they were at least mostly covered, and sat on the couch. "Tell me from the beginning."

Bolin found a dirty towel on the floor near the couch and spread it on the cushion before sitting beside his brother. Eska dragged over one of the chairs and listened as Bolin recounted the day's events, starting with the picnic and the walk on the beach, which was interrupted by the attack. She noticed that he omitted any mention of the letter she'd sent to Desna. "The guys who came after us were a mixed group, benders and non-benders. Some of them had those zappy-gloves the Equalists used to use. How could they have gotten hold of those, anyway? I thought Asami had the only ones left."

"Asami's warehouse was robbed the other night, when we were out running that sting to see who'd been attacking Varrick's ships. She probably had a crate or two stored there, and Varrick got them along with everything else."

Eska recognized the confused expression Bolin wore. "Wait, Varrick robbed Asami's company? What for?"

A severe frown darkened the firebender's face. "He knew it would put Future Industries out of business, so he could swoop in and buy the company out from under Asami while making her think he was 'saving' it."

"War profiteering," Eska observed.

It was the only comment she offered for the rest of the narrative, as Bolin finished describing their capture, his escape, and her rescue. His voice tightened in anger as he detailed Varrick's plan to draw Republic City into the war with her death. "All of this is in the statements we gave the police," he concluded. "We didn't see you down there. If you weren't working, where were you?"

"I was doing some investigating of my own, trying to find evidence to prove that Varrick was behind the cultural center bombing and the Future Industries robbery," the older boy admitted. "Chief Beifong wouldn't take me seriously before when I told her my theory about Varrick."

"I'm guessing she'll be more receptive now," Bolin remarked. "After kidnapping and attempted murder, how hard is a little arson and grand theft to believe?" He didn't bother to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

His brother clapped a hand gently on Bolin's shoulder. "Listen, bro, I'm sorry about Varrick – I know he was your friend. And... I'm sorry about last night, too. There's just been a lot on my mind, and I was worried about you."

The apology seemed to break through the gloom on Bolin's face; he grinned and hooked an amicable arm around his brother's neck. "Hey, don't worry about it, Mako. It's nice to know you're looking out for me."

"I mean it, though," his brother continued, "give me a little warning next time, so I don't walk in on you... doing... _things?_ " He gestured at the tub. "When are you gonna get rid of that hot tub, anyway?"

"Well, I don't know," Bolin replied, leaning back on the couch and lacing his fingers behind his head. "It's awfully useful to have around, for healing and stuff. It turned out to be a really good thing we had it, today. Right, Eska?" He glanced at her with a hopeful grin.

She shrugged. "His injuries were not serious, but he enjoys being 'fussed over.'"

His brother chuckled, ruffling Bolin's hair. "Yeah, he does." Bolin swatted him away, smoothing out his hair with both hands. The firebender rose from the couch and navigated around the large tub toward his bedroom. "I'm gonna get some sleep. It's been a long day. If it's not safe to come out here in the morning, could you just slip a note under my door or something?" Bolin threw a sofa cushion at him, and he retreated to the safety of his bedroom.

"I guess it is getting pretty late," Bolin said, glancing at the window and the dark sky beyond it. He began arranging the couch into a more suitable configuration for sleep, and then pointed at the cushion he'd lobbed at his brother. "Can I have that pillow back?"

Eska stood and retrieved the cushion, but did not relinquish it. "You are not sleeping out here."

Bolin looked as though she'd _hit_ him with the pillow. "Huh?"

She closed her eyes, attempting to find words that would not make her look weak. After the attack on the beach, she was disinclined to let him out of her sight any longer than necessary. "It has been a distressing day. I want you nearby."

Instantly his expression softened, making her wonder if she had failed to mask her vulnerability – and, oddly, she found herself wondering if she _needed_ to do so, with him. His reactions continued to surprise and confuse her. He seemed almost pleased when she let slip a display of weakness, but had never tried to take advantage of her missteps. She had little time to ponder the contradiction, as he rose and slid his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. Eska permitted the embrace, resting her hands lightly on his flanks. "Of course," he murmured into her hair, "whatever you want."

Tossing the cushion back onto the sofa, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom she had come to think of as 'theirs.' When she heard the door click shut, she stripped out of her tunic again and reached for the garment of Bolin's that she had pressed into service as sleepwear the previous night. Behind her, he made a squeaky noise, and she turned around to find him staring pointedly at the ceiling. She lifted an eyebrow at him. "I think that sort of discretion is superfluous at this juncture."

His face burned bright red, but he seemed to agree that he was allowed to look at breasts that he had been orally servicing only minutes ago. The opportunity did not last long, however, as she pulled the sleep-shirt on without fanfare. "Your clothes are dirty," she reminded him.

"Oh, right," he realized, looking down at the tank top and still-damp undershorts he wore. "Let me just... um..." He looked from his dresser, to Eska, and back again, uncertainty painted clearly across his face.

"Do you wish to preserve your modesty?" she asked, allowing a trace of sarcasm to slip into her tone.

The gentle mockery seemed to dispel his bashfulness. "Not if you'd rather have a show," he declared with what she assumed was meant to be a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. No longer hesitant, he crossed to the chest of drawers and withdrew a clean pair of shorts. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping his back to her, and slowly peeled off the undershirt, arching his back as he exposed more of his skin. Eska saw no reason to bother pretending not to enjoy the view; her eyes lingered on his broad, powerful shoulders, the clearly-defined muscles of his back, and the little valley that his spine carved down his torso. He untied the drawstring of his shorts and slid the waistband down over his hips. Though she had intuited that he had a pleasant-looking backside, this was the first time she had seen it so prominently on display, and the reality did not disappoint. She could see the firm muscle shift under his skin as he worked the shorts down his legs and off. It was mildly disappointing when he replaced them with the fresh pair.

Whatever he saw in her face when he turned back to look at her made him smile. He returned to her side, slipping his arms loosely around her. "See something you like?"

She let a touch of her amusement show in her expression. "I have chosen well."

His grin widened, and his fingers skimmed over the curve of her back. There was laughter in his green eyes. "I like knowing I have an effect on you."

The remark was meant lightly, an innocent flirtation, but it made her stare at him for a long moment. It hit her suddenly that she was in a strange land – and not just this city with its unreasonably warm weather and its streets teeming with Satomobiles. She had gone off alone, leaving Desna behind – _lied_ to Desna, along with her father. She had experienced greater joy and sorrow, fear and pride, in the past several days than she could remember in the last decade, and she had allowed those feelings to escape her disciplined mask. She had admitted error without prompting, and accepted defeat without question. She had made herself vulnerable through intimacy of body and spirit – all because of this boy standing before her with his stupidly broad smile and painfully sincere eyes. "More than you realize," she told him softly, breaking away and moving to sit on the bed.

Bolin seemed to notice the serious turn of her mood and crouched in front of her, peering up into her downcast face. "Hey. You all right?"

She reached out and adjusted a lock of his hair that had been set out of place when he removed his shirt. "Yes. I wish to sleep now."

He leaned into her touch, smiling up at her when she dropped her hand. "Do you mind if I let Pabu in? He likes to sleep near me."

"Your pet may join us." Eska watched as he rose and crossed to the bedroom door, opening it to admit the fire ferret that was already waiting at the threshold. It scampered across the room, leaped onto the bed – and paused, looking at her curiously. For a moment she returned its silent regard, before glancing up at Bolin. He was watching her and the creature from across the room, his expression hopeful. _Does he expect something from me, or the animal?_ Attempting to disguise her uncertainty, she extended one hand in the ferret's general direction, unfurling her fingers slowly toward it.

The creature paced forward cautiously, nose twitching, and stretched its neck out to sniff her fingertip. Then it began butting its head against her hand; her eyes turned to Bolin for an explanation of this behavior.

"Go ahead and scratch behind his ears; he likes that," he told her, beaming again.

Eska lifted a skeptical eyebrow in reply, but moved her fingers behind the fire ferret's triangular ear and rubbed tentatively. It closed its eyes and leaned against her hand, reminding her of its master's response just before. The similarity provoked a small smile from her.

Seeing the expression, Bolin returned to the bed and pressed a light kiss into her hair. She took his wrist and pulled him down to sit on the mattress before sliding her legs beneath the blanket. He seemed unsure of how he should position himself relative to her, so she grasped his shoulder and guided him down beside her, his back pressed against her body as she lay on her side, facing him. One of her hands glided across his chest to hold him closer to her, and she sighed into his shoulder as he brought one of his hands up to lace his fingers with hers. Her other arm curled underneath the pillow they shared, and she felt the fire ferret snuggle in atop the pillow, just above their heads. Warmth radiated from Bolin's body and seeped into her, assuring her that he was _here_ and _safe_. Breathing in the pleasant scent of him, she let her eyes close.


	8. Chapter 8

Awareness seeped into Bolin's mind only gradually; he was warm and comfy and felt no reason to wake up or move anytime soon. Pabu's faint snores coming from the pillow near his head were a reassuring presence, and the softer breathing beside him provided a gentle counterpoint that –

 _Wa-a-ait..._ Something wasn't adding up. _If that's Pabu, then who...?_ He slowly opened one eye. Across the pillow from him, with her forehead not quite touching his, was Eska. In his bed. Sleeping. With him.

Suddenly wide awake, Bolin's mind raced backward, trying to remember how they'd gotten here. _The kidnapping. Hot tub. Breasts._ His memory eagerly supplied a vivid, full-sensory recounting of the softness of her full breasts when he had buried his face in their firm but yielding flesh, and the faint trace of salt from the bay still lingering on her nipple when he had teased it with his tongue. The half-erection that he had by virtue of simply waking up now flared fully to life. There was a tiny bit of distance between their upper bodies – enough that Eska's borrowed nightshirt kept her breasts from pressing against his bare chest – but she had one leg hooked through his, pulling their hips close enough that she couldn't help noticing his arousal if she awoke.

"Good morning, boyfriend."

For a second he struggled with a surge of reflexive panic at being caught, until her hand (which up until that moment had been draped slackly across his side) curled around his back to pull his body flush against her. The single layer of worn fabric between them did nothing to mask the tantalizing sensation of her breasts, her hips, her thighs pressing close to him and drawing a soft whimper up from his throat. She _wanted_ him to react to her this way, he realized; the small, satisfied smile playing across her lips only confirmed that. _Well, if there's one thing I've gotten good at in the last few days, it's giving Eska what she wants._ "The _best_ morning," he replied, nuzzling against her cheek before his lips found hers, and he tried to keep from grinning as he kissed her. His hand came up to skim over her shoulder, her arm, her side, until it settled on the curve of her hip – not quite daring, yet, to wander lower. His thumb traced the little ridge her hipbone made against her skin, and his fingers dug a little into the tender flesh as her mouth pushed against his, deepening their kiss.

He couldn't quite figure out how she managed to roll him onto his back and settle herself on top of him, her knees bracketing his hips, without removing her tongue from his mouth, but he wasn't about to stop and wonder about it. Now that his left hand was no longer trapped under his side, he stretched out the arm to shake off the numbness and rested his palm on her bare thigh. Her skin was smooth and warm under his fingers – the hem of the shirt she wore made for a coarse contrast. He let his hand drift underneath the fabric, gliding up her side, over her ribs, and teasingly traced the little crease under her breast.

Eska broke the kiss then, sitting back on her heels to allow him better access to her chest, and raked her nails lightly down his sides. Her touch was just too hard to tickle, too soft to hurt; it lit up all his nerves until he could barely think. All he knew was that he needed to touch her more. The soft flesh under his fingertips brought back a memory from last night – wet, silken skin against his face; dark nipple stiffening between his lips; those low, soft noises in her throat that weren't quite moans – and he wanted it all again. He dropped his hands to the edge of her borrowed nightshirt and grabbed the fabric, lifting it up and away from her body. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over her head, and he let it drop beside the bed.

He stopped to stare for a moment, just taking in the sight of her: kneeling over him, naked except for the underwear that clung to her hips. That tiny scrap of fabric, and his own undershorts, were all that stood between her and his achingly hard arousal. She rolled her hips a little, like she thought he might have forgotten what he was doing and wanted to remind him – and he was pretty sure his eyes rolled back as he whimpered shamelessly and clutched at the air. He felt hands, small and strong, wrap around his wrists, lifting his arms up and back over his head. Confused, Bolin lifted his head from the pillow a little, refocusing his gaze on her face. Her expression was more unguarded than he had ever seen it, and her pale blue eyes burned with a mixture of desire and something more tender, something that made his breath catch in his throat. He relaxed into her grasp. _As long as she keeps looking at me like that, she can do whatever she wants to me._

She shifted her grip on his wrists to hold both of his arms pinned with one hand, freeing the other to cup the side of his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw and brushed lightly across his lips; he followed them with his mouth, pressing kisses against her fingertips. When she moved her hand away, he started to sit up, trying to kiss her, but she tightened her grip on his wrists, holding him in place. He wasn't about to argue – especially not when he felt her other hand on his chest, sketching slow circles around his left nipple. He closed his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him. Her hands, her skin, the heat of her body where she sat astride his hips, was perfect.

But the slightly raspy wetness against his forearm felt strangely out-of-place. He opened his eyes again and turned his head to find a familiar fire ferret still curled up on the pillow beside him, lazily licking his arm. _"Pabu!"_ Starting in alarm, Bolin tumbled off the bed in a tangle of sheets, landing hard on the floor. By some miracle (or her own reflexes) he'd managed not to drag Eska with him, but she did not look amused. "I – I forgot he was there!" he explained.

"Now you know," she responded dryly, reaching for his arm to haul him back up.

He pulled away. "But I can't – we can't just – not with _him_ here! It'd be too weird. I don't want him to see that." He felt his face heating up at the idea of exposing innocent little Pabu to... what he and Eska had been doing.

"He is an animal," Eska explained, as though the fact had escaped him. "I sincerely doubt it will bother him."

 _Maybe she's right. Maybe it's silly to be worried about Pabu –_ he _doesn't seem upset._ "Still... it's awkward."

Eska sighed. "Very well." Picking herself up from where she'd landed on the bed, she reached out and scooped up Pabu under the forelegs, stepping over Bolin on her way to the bedroom door. She had to juggle the fire ferret a little to get a hand free, but Pabu was still too sleepy to protest very much. Shifting him to one arm, she pushed open the door with the other hand and dropped the ferret on the floor outside the doorway.

From the angle where he lay on the floor, Bolin couldn't see far into the room beyond, but Mako's voice carried clearly through the open door. "Gah! Don't the Water Tribes have _any nudity taboos?"_ The sound of heavy footsteps followed, and then a door slamming.

Eska turned back into the room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her. "Your brother is awake," she informed him levelly.

It was just too much for Bolin. Mako was probably going to kill him later. Eska might kill him _now_. But he couldn't help it; the whole scene just struck him as hilarious all of a sudden. It started with a snicker that he tried (and failed) to stifle, which escalated into a sort of hysterical giggling, and before long he was howling with laughter.

"I do not see the humor in this situation," Eska observed with a scowl.

Bolin struggled to catch his breath long enough to reply, pointing at the door. "The look – the look on his face – must've been _priceless."_

The corner of her mouth twitched, like she was fighting a losing battle with a smile; finally one side of her mouth curved upward a tiny bit. "He did seem rather exasperated."

That sent Bolin into another fit of giggles. By the time he managed to get himself under control again, Eska was standing over him, hand extended to help him up. He accepted the offer sheepishly, pulling himself to his feet. "I guess I kinda killed the moment. Sorry about that."

She shrugged, apparently less perturbed than he'd expected. "There will be other moments."

It was a simple enough statement, but what it implied about their relationship – their future – made his pulse speed up again. He grinned, finding her other hand with his. "Definitely. Lots of them."

When she tipped her head up and leaned toward him, Bolin started to think that maybe one of those moments was happening already – but she pulled away again after only a quick peck on the mouth. "We have much to accomplish today."

He blinked. "We do?"

"First, I must go and look for Desna's response to my letter; more than enough time has passed for his reply to arrive. After that, there will undoubtedly be a great deal to discuss."

After everything that had happened the previous day, Bolin had nearly forgotten about the letter. "He's going to send you back a bottle-note like yours? Where?"

"As Desna is unfamiliar with the location of your lodgings, he will leave his message on the shore, above the high-tide mark," she explained. "The most likely location is the beach where we spent yesterday morning."

 _The same beach where we were attacked._ His hands tightened on hers. "Are you sure that's safe? Do you want me to come with you?"

"It would not profit Varrick to make another attempt against me, now that his plan has been exposed to the authorities. There is no further threat, and if there were, I can handle myself." And she could; there was no doubt in his mind that Eska would have been able to take out the entire band of thugs that had attacked them on the beach, if she'd been alone. _She only got captured because of me._ His thoughts must have shown on his face, because her eyes softened, and she squeezed his hands. "I will wish to discuss the contents of my brother's letter with you. Over lunch; you may choose the venue."

Though he definitely looked forward to the prospect of a lunch date with Eska, it was the fact that she was trying to cheer him up that made his expression brighten. "Sounds great! I know just the place."

But none of that was going to happen if they didn't start making themselves presentable; Bolin was sure he could still smell the seawater in his hair. Not exactly the kind of impression he wanted to make on their first official "date" since Eska had arrived in Republic City. A nice, long shower would wash the last traces of Yue Bay off him, and then his hair would start behaving itself properly again... He remembered with irritation the way Mako sometimes teased him for the amount of time he spent "primping" in the bathroom, and grudgingly admitted to himself that maybe his brother had a point. "You can take the bathroom first, if you want," he offered.

Eska nodded once, stepping away from him to pick up the tunic she'd discarded the night before. She glanced at the door leading to the living room, then at Bolin. "Fetch my clothes."

Suddenly it was like they were back in the South Pole again, and he was pulling her rickshaw, bowing when she left the room. He started trudging toward the door, but stopped short after a few steps. _No. Be honest, remember?_ Honesty had gotten him this far, after all. He took a deep breath, and turned back to face her. "Eska... it's not that I mind doing things for you – I kinda like it, actually – but I feel better about it when you _ask_ me to do stuff, instead of _command_ me."

Her eyes widened and color rose in her cheeks, but there was no outburst, or whatever else he'd been expecting. "I did not realize..." She looked away from him, and her arms slowly came up to cover her chest, as though she'd just noticed she was undressed – or as though it just started to matter. Her posture shifted, and it took Bolin a moment to recognize the uncertainty in her stance. "If... if you would."

She might not have much vocabulary for requests, but Bolin could recognize an effort when he heard one. With a smile, he closed the distance between them, resting his hands lightly on her upper arms, and dropped a kiss – quick and gentle – on her lips. "That's all I wanted," he told her brightly. He felt her relax under his touch, her arms unfolding from their protective position as her hands reached for him, sliding up his chest to curl around his shoulders. He gave her arms a little squeeze before releasing them. "Now let me go get those clothes for you, okay?" The faint upward curve of her lips was all the answer he needed.

There was no sign of Mako in the living room; Pabu's ears flicked toward Bolin as he edged around the hot tub in search of Eska's things. They weren't hard to find; there was a neat pile on the other side of the room where she'd taken off her pants, which were bunched down on top of her boots and socks. The wrap that went under her tunic was right beside them. Bolin scooped them all up and gave Pabu a quick scratch on top of the head on his way back past the couch, where the fire ferret had made himself comfortable. "Sorry about earlier, little buddy," he told Pabu. "I won't forget to let you out first, next time." The ferret chirruped contentedly in reply, and Bolin returned to the bedroom.

He handed the bundle of clothes to Eska, who accepted them with a faint smile before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. "Just lock the door into Mako's room so he doesn't walk in on you by accident, or I'll never hear the end of it," Bolin told her as the door closed. A few moments later he heard the water turn on, and let his eyes search the room for something to fix his thoughts on, to distract himself from the wistful-but-inappropriate regret that Eska hadn't invited him in with her. Eventually his gaze fell on the small suitcase he'd brought back with him from the South Pole. A fragment of yesterday's conversation on the beach trickled back into his mind, and an instant later he was kneeling beside the bag, unlatching the main compartment.

The climate in the South Pole, especially around midwinter, was much harsher than anything he was used to in Republic City, so there had been little hurry to unpack the cold-weather clothes he'd brought with him once they'd returned. The fur-lined overcoat he'd worn throughout most of their stay in the South was at the top of the tightly-packed suitcase, but it wasn't what he was looking for now. He pulled it out and tossed it aside, digging deeper into the bag. Warm clothes flew through the air and landed in a heap around him as he rooted around inside, until finally... "Aha!" Bolin wasn't sure what impulse had prompted him to bury the betrothal necklace at the bottom of his suitcase instead of dropping it over the side of Varrick's boat on the trip back home, but he was glad of it now.

He stood, ignoring the ring of laundry that had formed around his feet, and examined the necklace. _Okay, the skull is still kinda creepy,_ he conceded, poking the ornament with a hesitant finger. _I wonder if it's like, some sort of unfortunate family crest or something._ Despite the morbid decoration, when he looked closely at the necklace it was obvious how much care had gone into making it. Even if it had been done at the wrong time and in the wrong way, the thought of Eska going to all that effort for his sake gave him a warm, fluttery feeling, like chipmoths had built a nest in his ribcage. As he turned the necklace over in his hands, studying, it, seeing how it was put together, he started imagining what it would look like if he made one. _I'd carve a fire ferret for the pendant, I think. I could use Pabu as a model._ Eska would probably make a sarcastic remark about his choice of motif, but with that little smile that told him she actually liked it. With a start, Bolin realized the direction his thoughts had taken. _Whoa._ Way _too soon to be thinking about stuff like that._ But as he placed the necklace gently on top of his dresser, he found himself smiling. _Maybe someday, though. If things keep going like this._

Several minutes later he heard the water shut off, and it wasn't long before Eska emerged from the bathroom, dry and dressed in clothes that looked much less rumpled and stained than they had when she'd gone in. As she approached him, he caught the fragrance of his soap from her hair, and he grinned – it was like part of him lingered on her, and she wouldn't be going out completely alone after all. Not that he thought eucalyptus-scented soap could protect her if she was attacked again, or anything... _It's just a nice thought, like we're connected somehow._ He felt his face heat up as he realized how silly it sounded.

The curious look she fixed him with told him that Eska had noticed his blush. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he assured her hastily. "You smell nice."

She didn't reply to the compliment, but the expression in her eyes softened a little. "I will return for you after I have retrieved the letter; it should not take long. Then we can depart on our date."

Before he could respond, she pulled him down for a kiss. It was brief and not very deep, but there was enough heat in it to make him wish she didn't have to leave right away. "Bye, Eska!" he managed before she was completely through the bedroom door. He stared after her for a moment, then took a breath and went to grab himself a towel. _I wonder if she left me any hot water. On the other hand,_ he considered, the imprint of her kiss still fresh on his lips, _a cold shower wouldn't be the worst thing in the world right now..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that the section I was working on was getting long, and that I had a reasonable place to put a chapter break. Hopefully I'll be able to finish wrestling with the next chapter and update again in a few days.
> 
> And I _really do_ intend for the rating to bump up to Explicit eventually; it's just taking a smidgen longer than I'd expected for these two to get there. Well, anticipation is half the fun, right?


	9. Chapter 9

It turned out that there was some hot water left, though not as much as he'd have liked – which made his regular morning routine a little more rushed than usual. At least he managed to scrub the crusted salt and fishy smell out of his hair before the water turned freezing, and now he stood in front of the bathroom mirror with his comb. He glanced at the door that led into his brother's room, hoping that Eska's visit would spare him any complaints from Mako about his monopolizing the bathroom. _It's not my fault perfection takes time,_ he thought, grinning at his image in the mirror.

As he returned to the bedroom and started looking for fresh clothes, Bolin realized something: he was starving. The picnic on the beach was almost a full day ago, and with everything that had happened after that, there hadn't been time for dinner – and Pabu had demolished the leftovers, anyway. Once he was dressed, he headed for the kitchen to see if there was anything for breakfast.

Mako was sitting at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Morning, bro," Bolin offered as he poked through the cupboards for anything that didn't need cooking. "Sorry about earlier – we didn't realize you were up yet." His search wasn't turning up much, so he grabbed a mug and turned to pour himself some tea.

"So, you want to tell me what's going on?"

The question caught Bolin by surprise as he dropped into a seat to one side of his brother. "Huh?"

"You know what I mean," Mako continued. "You and Eska. When we left the South Pole, you couldn't wait to put an ocean between the two of you, and now I walk in and find you naked together in that stupid hot tub. What happened?"

"We weren't naked!" Bolin protested. "...Completely. I told you, there was healing and stuff."

"That's not the point," Mako retorted. "Why did you change your mind about her so fast?"

He sighed. "Like I said, we –"

"You what, _talked?"_ he snorted. "What has talking ever solved? Talking too much only _causes_ problems between couples, it doesn't fix them."

Bolin reached for the teapot and poured, covering his reaction. He was beginning to see why his brother had so much trouble staying in a relationship. "She didn't realize I was unhappy, or how she was making me want to leave," he explained after a sip of tea. Bolin didn't think it would be right to tell Mako much of the more personal stuff Eska had told him about her upbringing, but leaving that out didn't change the basic facts. "I told her how I felt, and she listened. She wants to do things differently now, and it's been working out pretty well so far." He hid his grin behind his mug.

"How do you know it's not just an act to drag you back in?" Mako asked. "Maybe she's just pretending to be nice so you let your guard down, and before you know it you're married and on a boat to the North Pole to wait on her for the rest of your life."

He shot a disbelieving look at his brother. "You've _met_ Eska, right? She's really –" he searched for the right word "– _direct,_ when she wants something. I doubt she'd even think of something like that. Besides," he continued more softly, looking down into his tea, "when we were attacked by Varrick's goons, she let herself be captured to save me."

Mako's hands tightened around his own cup, and he leaned forward across the table. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "One of the guys got around behind me, and..." Tilting his head back, he held a finger against his throat like a knife, where the cut had been before Eska healed it. "They told her they'd kill me if she didn't surrender." He drank some more tea, trying to clear away the bitter taste of the memory. "...I'd never seen Eska scared before."

The suspicious look in Mako's eyes reluctantly faded away. "I guess it might be safe to trust her then – maybe. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were in trouble."

That got a chuckle out of Bolin. He set his tea down and tipped back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "Mako, before it turned into a kidnapping, we were sort of on a date. And no offense, but I've been kinda liking how my dates with Eska lately have been a brother-free zone." Things were so much less awkward between the two of them without Desna looming beside her. That was probably something he was going to have to bring up with her once the trouble with Unalaq was over – but for now, Bolin just wanted to enjoy the way things were.

Before Mako could reply, there was a knock at the door, which then opened without waiting for an answer. "Hey guys!" Asami called, stepping into the room. She held a flat box stamped with the logo of a local bakery in one hand. "The door was open. I brought breakfast!"

Mako's face brightened as she walked in and crossed the room toward them. "Great! I'm glad you're here. There's something important I need to tell you."

Asami looked at him curiously as she pulled out a chair next to him and sat down. Bolin couldn't help noticing how close she sat, and how she rested her hand on Mako's forearm as she asked, "What is it?"

It wasn't hard for Bolin put those little gestures together with the fact that this was the first time Asami had dropped by their apartment unannounced in months, and reach a conclusion. "Wait a minute," he interrupted, eyes narrowing. "Are you two _dating again?"_ They both looked startled, then guilty, then began protesting the accusation at the same time. But the one person Bolin never had any trouble reading was his brother. _Something_ had changed between him and Asami. "Korra's only been gone a week!" he reminded Mako indignantly. "And did you forget how she _almost died?"_

"Wait – what happened to Korra?" Asami cut in, worry quickly overtaking her embarrassment.

"She's all right, now," Bolin assured her. "But after she had that fight with Mako and left to get help from the Fire Lord, she was attacked by a dark spirit and had to go into the spirit world to heal, or something."

He wasn't sure exactly what it was that he said, but Asami's face took on a pinched expression as she turned her head toward Mako. "You didn't tell me you had a _fight_ with her." Bolin decided he was better off staying out of this one, and quietly pulled the bakery box toward him and slipped off the string. Inside lay a dozen sugar-dusted pastries, oozing fruit jam. _Ooh, I love these ones!_

"What difference does it make?" Mako snapped. "We had a fight, and we broke up."

Asami shot him a glare. "People say a lot of things they don't mean when they argue."

"I meant it! She was being totally unreasonable!"

She didn't seem impressed. "And what happens if Korra comes back and wants to patch things up? Are you really going to reject her when she's just returned from a trip where she nearly died?"

It didn't look like Mako had an answer for that. Instead, he changed the subject. "Speaking of getting back together with crazy exes, Bolin's dating Eska again." Unfortunately, Bolin hadn't anticipated the tactic, and had half a pastry in his mouth when Asami turned to him.

Her green eyes softened with kind concern. "Bolin? Did she chase you all the way here? Are you all right?"

He chewed twice and swallowed before answering. "It's not like that," he began, reaching for his mug of tea. "Well, okay, it's a _little_ like that. She did come here looking for me, but then I tried your advice again – remember, about being honest with her? And it worked this time!"

"You mean you convinced her to leave you alone?" she asked.

"No, better!" He couldn't keep the grin off his face. "I got her to stop being all scary and treating me like a slave. She actually talks to me now – and listens! It's great!"

Asami favored him with a tentative smile. "That sounds wonderful. But... are you sure this is what you want?"

Even if it was the same concern that Mako had expressed, at least she phrased it less aggressively. And he could understand why they were asking; it wasn't like he hadn't wondered some of the same things that first day after she appeared on the set. But so much had happened since then, even if it hadn't been very long. Things were better between them than he could ever have imagined back at the South Pole. Just thinking about her made him smile. "Yeah. I'm sure."

He could still see the tension in Asami's forehead that showed her uneasiness. "Listen, if there are any problems, I know you guys are there for me, and I'll come talk to you. I did before, right?" He gave her a reassuring grin. "But if everything keeps going like it has been, you won't have anything to worry about."

Asami seemed to relax at that, and nodded. "I hope things with Eska out for you, Bolin. You deserve someone who cares about your feelings, and is willing to talk with you when there's a problem." She didn't look at Mako when she said that last bit, but Bolin noticed his brother wince anyway.

"I found out who's been stealing from Future Industries," Mako cut in.

"What? Who?"

Mako's eyes narrowed. "Varrick."

The frown returned to her face. "That's impossible! He _saved_ my company!"

"It's true," Bolin confirmed, reaching for the box to take another pastry. "He's been trying to push Republic City into the Water Tribes' war, so he could make money off it. Yesterday he had Eska kidnapped, and the guys who attacked us had some of your dad's electric gloves."

Her eyes went wide. "Those would've had to come from my warehouse... But are you sure it was Varrick who was responsible?"

"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen him, but yeah. He was right in the middle of it, calling the shots." He sighed, remembering the scene on the yacht.

Asami's nails scraped on the surface of the table, and her lips twisted into a snarl. "That rat-weasel! He stole my company out from under me, and made me _thank_ him for it! I'll kill him. I'll _sue_ him!"

"You'll have to find him first," Bolin said thoughtfully around a mouthful of pastry. "After we reported the kidnapping, Chief Beifong sent half the force out to look for him, but I don't know if they caught him yet."

She looked at him for a moment, then gasped. "Oh no! The police will freeze his assets – and his assets now include controlling interest in _my company!_ I have to get my lawyers on this right now." Rising from the table, she turned to Mako. "When you get to the station today, can you find out for me anything you can about the investigation? I need as much information as possible if I'm going to bring Future Industries through this in one piece."

Mako looked up at her, startled. "Uh, sure. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Great, thanks!" She smiled at him. "Drop by after work and tell me what you've found out?" At his nod, she turned her smile to encompass both of them; it was a little strained, but sincere. "I'm sorry to run off so quickly, but I need to get ahead of this if I'm going to save my company. I'll see you later!" With that, she crossed the room and hurried out.

The door didn't have time to close behind her before it was pushed open again, and Eska entered. The cuffs of her trousers were damp and it was easier than usual to read her emotions in her face: she was worried. "Bolin! I need to speak with you."

"Of course." Shoving the last of his pastry into his mouth, he joined her as she headed for the bedroom, and followed her in. He took a moment to swallow, then asked, "What's wrong?"

Eska paused, composing herself before replying. "There was no message. I searched the length of that beach, and scoured the entire bottom of the bay. I even checked the docks where I entered the city. There was nothing."

He reached for her hand – and realized that his fingers were covered in powdered sugar. He wiped them clean on his pants and tried again. "Maybe his letter just hasn't gotten here yet? It's only been a day. He might not have had time to get back to you so soon."

She pulled her hands away from his grasp, beginning to pace the length of his bedroom floor. "No. Something isn't right. Desna would have responded as quickly as possible, knowing the length of time it would take to send his message. I looked as far out into the ocean as I could, and there was no letter within reach of my bending. If his message hasn't arrived by now, something has prevented him from sending it. I need to find out what."

"How?"

Her voice was unsteady, but there was steel in it. "I must return to the South Pole."

Bolin closed the distance between them, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I'll come with you." She lifted her face to him, confusion in her eyes. He continued, "You're worried about Desna, and you don't know what you're going to find when you get back there. You came with me when I was worried about Korra. Now it's my turn."

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment longer, and then she fell into his embrace. He wrapped his arms comfortingly around her, but as suddenly as she had begun to cling to him, she pushed away again, straightening. "We must leave immediately," she said, and he watched her struggle to banish any emotion from her features. "The journey is a long one, even at the speed I will take us."

"Right." Bolin scooped up the fur-trimmed coat from where it had fallen on the floor earlier, when he'd been rummaging through his suitcase. Then he looked down at the rest of the clothes. "I shouldn't have unpacked. What should I bring?"

Eska shook her head. "I don't want my father to know I have returned until..." She paused, considering. "Until I speak with Desna and understand more of what is happening. Dress warmly, and I will provide anything else we require."

He opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn't sure what words he wanted. Eska meant for them to _hide_ from her father – she didn't want bags and suitcases getting in their way. It meant that going back to the South Pole was going to be even more dangerous than he'd thought... but it also meant something else. Eska may not have committed to standing against Unalaq, but it looked like she wasn't standing _with_ him yet, either. He picked out a set of warmer clothes from the pile by the suitcase and changed quickly; he didn't bother with any notions of modesty in front of her, but neither of them were thinking in that direction right now anyway. On went the snow boots from his travel bag, and the parka. "Okay. One last thing, and then we can go." At her curious look, Bolin took her hand and led her back into the main room.

His brother was still seated at the table, half a pastry in one hand. "Mako, I need you to help me with something. It's important."

Mako tossed the half-eaten pastry back into the box and stood abruptly, staring at Bolin's clothes. "What's going on, bro?"

"I'm going to the South Pole with Eska. It looks like there might be some kind of trouble, and we have to check it out." He noticed Mako's mouth tighten into a thin line, the way it always did when he heard something that worried him. He could guess what Mako was thinking: that Bolin was going to ask him to come with them for support. But he knew better. Mako had all his police responsibilities and stuff now, and didn't have time for other problems. Bolin was the only one without any demands on his time – he doubted he'd be expected on the set anytime soon, with the producer on the run from the cops. This was something he could handle alone, and he wasn't about to ask Mako for a favor he'd only refuse. "I need you to look after Pabu for me for a while."

Mako's eyes dimmed a little, and he glanced away. "Are you sure you're gonna be all right alone?"

"I won't _be_ alone," Bolin said firmly. "And I'll be fine. Can I count on you?"

His brother's gaze came up to lock on his. "Of course you can. Just..." Mako stepped around the table and pulled Bolin into a tight hug. "Be careful, all right, Bo?"

He squeezed back, relieved. Things between him and Mako had been kind of rocky for the past few days, and Bolin was glad to be able to leave on a better note. "Don't worry. We'll be back before you know it." When they broke away, it was clear from Mako's face that Bolin hadn't managed to put him completely at ease, but at least he was attempting a smile. _Fair enough. I mean,_ I'm _kinda worried about the whole thing where we're walking into a war zone. It sounds like Eska's got a plan, though, so it'll probably be okay._ "Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone, all right?"

Mako gave a weak laugh in reply. "Sure, I'll keep that in mind."

Bolin was about to remind Mako about Pabu's feeding schedule and that radishes didn't agree with the fire ferret, when he felt Eska's hand on his shoulder. He was stalling, and it was time to go. With a nod, he followed her to the door, and then glanced back over his shoulder at his brother once more. "See you, Mako." He pulled the door shut behind them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short; I'd planned to add another scene, but with all the holiday baking I've had to do lately (and, admittedly, my abysmal time management skills) I wasn't able to get it done. I didn't want to leave the story any longer without some kind of update, though, so consider it a holiday present. ;)

She led them back to the edge of the bay, taking the most direct route to the water possible. Part of her was tempted to leave from the beach where Desna should have left his letter, but she ignored the impulse as foolishness: she'd been too thorough to miss anything, and if the message had been close enough to arrive after she left the shore, she would have felt it in the water.

Bolin had insisted on stopping at a food cart on the way to the docks. Though she begrudged any time wasted in reaching her brother, he had managed to persuade her of the necessity. She had not eaten since yesterday afternoon; her worry made food an entirely unappealing prospect, but the journey south would be a long one, and eventually her physical needs would win out over anxiety. Eska had simply stood in impatient silence, her mouth a tight, rigid line, as Bolin paid the vendor and accepted a large, greasy brown bag in exchange.

The docks were busy at this time of day, but Eska had no attention to spare for the workers and passengers clogging the streets. She simply continued forward, and the crowd parted before her. Behind her, she heard Bolin scampering to keep up, muttering apologies to those who had failed to get out of her way quickly enough. She noticed an empty pier and altered her course, heading for the clear space.

If the motions of her bending were a little stiffer than they should have been, it did little to impact the end result; a wide column of water rose to a level with the edge of the pier. She clenched her fist, freezing the top layer into a flat, level disk thick enough to support the weight of passengers. Eska stepped out onto its smooth surface and turned an expectant look toward Bolin.

He remained on the pier, regarding the icy platform with trepidation. "Um... How do I do this without, y'know, falling off in the middle of the ocean and drowning?"

Eska blinked. She'd never traveled this way with someone who wasn't a waterbender, who couldn't subtly shift the surface of the ice raft beneath their feet in order to maintain balance. With a sweeping gesture, she raised a sturdy wall, about waist-high, around the rear half of the ice floe, counterbalancing it at the front to prevent them from capsizing. Then she reached a hand toward Bolin to help him board.

Taking her hand in a tight grip that spoke volumes of his nerves, he stepped gingerly onto the ice disk. His feet slipped a little, but he managed to stay upright. Then he leaned against the backstop and sank slowly down, seating himself on the surface of the raft with his body curled around the warm sack of takeout food. "I'll just stay out of your way down here," he offered uneasily, bracing himself against the vertical surface.

As impatient as Eska was to be on her way, she found herself experiencing a bit of sympathy for his predicament – this could not be an easy or pleasant way for an earthbender to travel. "If you are ready?"

He gave an overly-emphatic nod. "Yeah... no problem here," he squeaked.

Though she regretted his discomfort, there was no easy solution. No ship would get them to the South Pole nearly as quickly as she could, and even this way would take longer than she wished. He had chosen to accompany her; he would manage. She turned away, facing the open water, and guided the ice floe out of the harbor.

When they emerged from the bay and were clear of the commercial sea traffic, she no longer had to move slowly. She reached out with both arms, churning the water beneath them, and the raft shot ahead. Behind her, Bolin let out a startled cry, but the rear wall of their vessel served its purpose and he remained securely in place. Eska leaned forward, urging the ice disk to still greater speed. The heavy sleeves of her thick robe rippled in the wind of their passage; though she had gone without the garment for only a few days, she found that she was no longer accustomed to its weight on her shoulders.

No matter how swiftly she pushed the ice floe, their journey would take much longer than the few hours in which her message had made the crossing to the Southern Water Tribe lands. If the wind stayed with them and the skies remained clear, they would reach the capital by midday tomorrow. Even that span was too long for her peace of mind; she pushed harder, the speed of her bending forms increasing as she struggled to quicken their pace even more.

It was taxing work, and they were still in Fire Nation waters. The sun beat steadily down, hot and uncompromising. They were making progress – when she looked out over the sea to their right, it was easy to track the islands that appeared on the horizon ahead as they crept slowly past their raft to disappear into the distance behind them – but Eska remained keenly aware of the vast distance that still lay between them and her goal. She could not rest, not yet. Not until they were closer. She locked her knees to keep them from trembling, and wiped the dampness from her forehead before it could drip into her eyes.

The ice floe bobbed slightly, and she felt a strong hand on her back. "Eska? How about you come take a break for a little while?"

"No."

The hand moved to her shoulder, insistent. "At least have something to eat. That won't take long."

She let out a slow breath. Perhaps food would cause the headache she had developed to recede. Eska lowered her arms, turning toward him as the raft slowed to drift with the current. "Very well," she agreed, "but only a brief interruption."

Smiling, Bolin took her hand as he folded his legs beneath him, helping her sit down across from him. The raft was small enough that their knees were touching as they faced one another, one of them on either side to balance the vessel's weight. From the bag beside him he withdrew a bottle of tea and a paper-wrapped meat bun, handing both of them to her. The bun stank of cold grease, but it had been long enough since she had last eaten that the smell was not as off-putting as it should have been. Still, she opened the tea first. It was tepid, but that didn't matter – only when the first mouthful hit her tongue did Eska realize how intensely thirsty she was. The bottle was half-empty by the time she set it down.

Bolin was already working his way through one of the meat buns, but the way he kept glancing up at her told Eska that he was paying little attention to his meal. "Explain your reason for looking at me in that manner."

He dropped his eyes to the half-finished bun in his hands, then slowly raised them again to meet her gaze. "I... I'm sorry I can't help you – with the raft, with getting us there faster."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I neither expect nor require you to waterbend. You have no cause for remorse."

That drew a heavy sigh out of him. "It's just that... if I could take over for a while, or even help somehow, then maybe you wouldn't have to push yourself so hard. You could rest a little."

Eska studied him silently for a moment. She wasn't sure how to respond; the only one who ever expressed that sort of concern for her was Desna, and even he knew better than to try to relieve her of a responsibility entirely – the consequences if their father discovered it did not bear contemplating.

The thought of her brother sent another pang of anxiety shooting through her. She wanted, _needed_ to reach him as quickly as possible, to find out what was wrong (as she had grown increasingly convinced that something _must_ be), but... little good would come of continuing to pretend that her reserves of energy and strength were boundless. It would make her less prepared to face whatever problems she might find when they arrived at the South Pole – and it would make Bolin fret over her. As much as it pleased her that her welfare was so important to him, she hated to see him distressed without need. Finally, she reached out and rested her hand on his knee. "I will demonstrate more caution," she promised.

He covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. "I know you're worried about him. I'm sorry I can't do more to help."

"You are helping." Without him, she would not have stopped. The sun was just beginning to skim the edge of the sea on their right, taking with it some of the day's heat. She was feeling a bit better, physically, and at Bolin's urging started to nibble at the bun he'd given her. It had not suffered as much from the passage of several hours as she had suspected. When they had completed their meal, Bolin helped her to her feet, and Eska willed the ice floe into motion once again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I'm sorry there's been so much of a delay on this chapter; first the holidays completely threw me out of my writing groove, and then I got sick (which I kind of still am, actually)... but still, it's been over a month since my last update, and I'm really sorry for that. I'll try to make sure the next chapter doesn't take me quite so long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It became clear that they had entered polar seas by mid-afternoon on the following day, but the walls of the Southern Water Tribe's capital did not appear before them until nearly nightfall. By then Eska was glad of the thick, fur-trimmed robe that had been so burdensome at the start of their journey. The gathering darkness made it easier to avoid the notice of the sentries on the walls; by extending the rear wall of their vessel into an ice canopy under which she and Bolin crouched, they were able to drift past without raising suspicion.

Just as she had done with her bottle message, Eska lifted the raft up on a column of water to the window that she recognized as Desna's. Bolin clung to her as they ascended, after making the poor choice of peering over the edge of the ice disc when they were several stories in the air. She steadied him with one hand. "I have you, turtle-duck," she whispered. He nodded once, but did not loosen his iron grip on her robe.

A moment later the raft reached the level of the window frame. "Desna," she called softly into the dim room. When no response followed, Eska reached for the sill, climbing inside with a boost from the water column. She scanned the room, her eyes quickly coming to rest on the bed where a still figure lay covered with blankets and furs. Eska frowned; though the sun had set, it was much earlier than her and her brother's accustomed sleeping time. "Desna?" she asked again, more insistently, but the figure did not stir. Distantly she heard a scrabbling at the window behind her, but all her attention was absorbed in her brother. Eska knelt beside the bed and reached for Desna's shoulder to wake him.

Her hand froze halfway to her brother's form as she looked at his face. This close, she could see that something was very wrong. Desna's eyes were closed and he gave no sign that he was aware of her, but his brows were drawn and there was tension around his mouth, as though from pain. His forehead was damp with sweat, pasting the hair there to his skin. When she moved again, reaching to smooth the hair away from his face, she felt the fever-heat rising from him. _Desna, what has happened to you?_

Behind her, Bolin tumbled over the windowsill and onto the bedroom floor with a yelp as the column of water supporting their ice raft fell away. He recovered himself quickly and climbed to his feet to stand at her side, a step or two away from the bed. "What's the matter? Is he all right?"

Eska shook her head, uncertain of her voice. She pulled down the blankets covering Desna to examine him, and gasped at what she saw. He was stripped to the waist, with bandages wrapped in a wide band around his chest. At the edges of the wrapping, she saw the angry reddened flesh of a burn.

She had never been so grateful for the long hours she'd been forced to spend at her mother's side in the healer's huts, learning the proper womanly uses of waterbending. "Help me lift him," she hissed, keeping her voice low. If she had been reluctant before to alert her father of her return, she was doubly unwilling now that she'd seen the state Desna was in. She hated to move him without knowing the severity of his injuries, but the bandages were fresh: someone was changing them regularly, so it must be safe to lift her brother's body at least enough to unwind the wrappings.

Bolin's hands were strong and gentle, and though he knew little about handling the wounded, he took her instructions well. Soon Desna was lying flat on the bed again, and Eska was faced with the undressed wound on her brother's torso. Even before she uncorked the skin at her side to call out a stream of water, she could see that the burn was a serious one. It had been carefully cleaned and tended, but it was obvious that no healer had applied their skills to the wound. There was something odd about the injury itself – the pattern of the burn, or perhaps the lack of charring, reminded her more of a lightning strike than the touch of flame – but only when she covered Desna's chest with her water-sheathed hands and extended her senses into the flesh did Eska realize what had troubled her. The wound was spiritual as well as physical; that must be why Desna remained unconscious.

The plain water she carried with her was useless for such an injury. She returned it to the skin at her belt and looked up to find Bolin's face, confused and concerned, staring down at her. "In the next room, at the foot of the bed, there is a chest," she told him, pointing to the door that led into her adjoining bedroom. "Fetch me the bottle at the bottom of the chest, wrapped in a blue silk scarf." He nodded once and headed for the door.

It was only when she was alone, perched on the edge of her brother's bed and looking down at the raw, blistering wound that spread across his chest, that the awful truth hit her. _This is my fault. If I had not left Desna to pursue my own desires, I would have been here to heal him – he may not even have been wounded at all, if I hadn't abandoned him!_ Eska squeezed her eyes shut as silent, bitter tears overflowed her eyelids and ran down her face. Her throat clenched, and she struggled to fight down miserable sobs of failure and betrayal.

A warm hand pressed lightly into the space between her shoulder blades. "It's gonna be all right." She opened her eyes to see Bolin smiling down at her, holding out the silk-wrapped bottle in his other hand. "You can heal him – can't you?"

She took the bottle from him and nodded, swallowing against the tightness that closed up her throat. "With this," she managed after a moment, as she carefully removed the stopper from the bottle. "Water from the Spirit Oasis, back home." She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he stepped away, giving her room to work. Eska took a breath, burying her guilt and fear and clearing her mind of emotion, then drew the spirit water out of the bottle and swept it across Desna's body to pool over the burn on his chest.

Her healer's senses reached down, through the energy that suffused the water, and found the dark spirit essence hidden within the wound. It lay coiled around Desna's heart chakra like a cobra-eel. She took hold of that inimical energy and surrounded it with the spirit of the water, permeating it, changing it. The darkness resisted, but her will was implacable, and the power of the spirit water was too strong; finally the energy released its grip on the chakra as darkness gave way to light. After that, healing the wound was a simple – if lengthy and arduous – matter of repairing the burned and damaged tissues. With Desna's heart chakra freed, his body was no longer fighting her attempts to heal its muscle and flesh. At last, she straightened from her hunched position over her brother's torso, which now bore only a patch of reddened skin as large as her outstretched hand to show where the wound had been, and dared a glance at his face. The pain had vanished from his features, and his eyes slowly opened. "E-Eska?"

She nearly forgot to return the spirit water to its ornamented bottle before grasping her brother's hand, which had stirred from his side and was reaching feebly toward her. For a long moment she was silent, and simply gripped Desna's hand in both of hers; she had too much to say, and no idea how to articulate any of it. _I was so afraid. I'm sorry I abandoned you. I couldn't bear it if I'd lost you._ She took a breath. "I am relieved to see you awake. What happened?"

Desna began to push himself upright in the bed, but relented when Eska's hand on his shoulder stilled him. "Father took me through the portal into the spirit world," he told her, his voice still a touch unsteady. "We attempted to open the Northern Portal."

Eska frowned. "Only the Avatar can open the Spirit Portals." This was a point on which their father had been insistent when they had first come to the South Pole.

"As we discovered." A wry note crept into Desna's tone. "A bolt of energy from the portal struck me when we tried to force it open with our bending. That is the last I remember until now."

A creeping unease took root low in Eska's stomach. "When did this happen?"

"We entered the spirit world the day after I returned to the South Pole after our unsuccessful attempt to retrieve Avatar Korra." His voice was getting stronger, but the sort of major healing his wound had required was physically taxing – as were the three days he had lain in this bed, severely wounded and unconscious, with only the most rudimentary care for his injuries.

Her guilt at leaving Desna's side and allowing him to be hurt was rapidly eclipsed by a cold fury at their father for subjecting him to this sort of danger and neglect. "Father should have brought a healer to you immediately. He should never have attempted to open the portal without the Avatar." She ground out the words through clenched teeth, like the scrape of a calving iceberg.

"Um, Eska?" Bolin had drifted back a few paces to give her and Desna the opportunity to talk privately, and his gentle but urgent interruption drew Eska's attention. He was pointing to the other door to the room, the one that let out onto the corridor – the one that was now opening.

She yanked the cork from the flask at her side and took up a ready stance beside her brother's bed; at the edge of her vision, she saw Bolin do the same in the center of the room, his wide stance grounded on the cold stone floor. But the door swung open to reveal only a middle-aged serving woman carrying bandaging cloths and a bowl of water, the latter of which nearly fell from her grasp as she started in surprise. The woman recovered quickly, making a slight bow while balancing the mostly-full bowl in her arms. "Princess Eska, please forgive me – I did not realize that you had returned."

Eska lowered her arms and glanced into the corridor behind the woman, which was fortunately empty. "As far as anyone here is to know, I have not. Come in and close the door." Puzzled, the serving woman stepped inside, and Bolin moved to close the heavy wooden door behind her before she found a place to set down her burdens. The confusion on the woman's face melted away into relief when she turned toward Desna's bed, but before she could exclaim over his recovery, Eska spoke again. "Why was a healer not brought to my brother?"

The carefully guarded look in the serving woman's eyes was a familiar one to Eska; it spoke of disapproval that the speaker did not dare express aloud. "There were no healers with the Northern forces or the royal entourage. The nearest healer in the South is Master Katara, but she has gone to the White Lotus compound, which shelters Tonraq's rebels." The woman's mouth narrowed to a tight line. "Chief Unalaq said that he would not beg at the feet of a traitor for aid that would only be refused."

"Master Katara wouldn't do that!" Bolin protested. "I met her last year, and she's amazing! She'd never turn down someone who needed her help, not even..." He trailed off, perhaps realizing that he was speaking out of turn. Satisfaction shone in the serving woman's eyes; a native of the South, she no doubt shared Bolin's opinion and considered her repetition of the chief's words slanderous. Eska was not about to take either of them to task, though. The fact that help had been within Desna's reach but their father had refused to seek it did not incline her to spring to his defense.

"How often has my father come to see Desna since he was injured?" If he visited regularly, they would have little time before Desna's recovery, and therefore Eska's return, was discovered.

The servant woman looked uneasy, glancing away from Eska. "As far as I know, he has not come here since the Prince was brought in, Your Highness. Only the servants have tended to him – Nuniq comes during the days, and my turn is at night. I have never seen any sign of a visitor besides the two of us until now."

Eska worked to keep her expression calm, to hide the churning currents of anger beneath an icy surface. "I am going to ask you to conceal information from my father. Will you agree?"

Now came the measuring look. The serving woman was trying to decide whether this was a test of her obedience, or a genuine opportunity to work against the invader of her homeland. The woman's eyes darted to Desna, still half-covered in blankets and supine on the bed. "I will help you," she said simply.

A small smile touched Eska's lips, and she acknowledged the woman's decision with a brief nod. "We will need a meal for the three of us. You are to tell no one that I have returned, or that my brother has awakened. If you believe the other attendant will cooperate, inform her to do the same – otherwise, take over her shifts tomorrow. My father must not discover that anything has changed."

The servant bowed again. "I understand, Princess. I believe that Nuniq will help keep your secret; she wasn't pleased with how the Prince was being treated either." She set her burdens down on the desk by the door. "If I am excused, I will return shortly with your food."

Eska was about to dismiss the woman when she felt Bolin's eyes on her. Even without that pressure, there was a part of her that needed to say _something_ else, though she wasn't quite sure what. The protectiveness of the serving woman's glance at Desna, and the restrained scorn in her voice when she spoke of Unalaq's actions, demanded an answer. "And –" she began, drawing the woman's attention to her again. It took Eska a moment to find the correct words. "...Thank you, for taking care of my brother."

That brought real warmth to the servant woman's face. She smiled and bowed again, more deeply. "I'm glad he is well. I'll be back soon." Then she opened the door and slipped quietly away.

When Eska turned around again, Desna's expression was bemused, but Bolin looked delighted. She ignored both reactions. "We must decide how to proceed," she told them.

Levering himself into a sitting position, Desna shook his head. "I'm not certain I understand Father's reasons for his actions," he confessed. "He told us he wanted to unite the Water Tribes, which stopping the rebels and opening the Spirit Portals would achieve, but..." His brows drew down in a worried look. "Lately it seems there is something more that he wants."

Eska's eyes drifted to the letter she'd sent him, still in its bottle tucked against the wall beneath the windowsill. "I have similar concerns," she confessed. "If Father only seeks unity for our people, there are other methods that could have achieved that end more effectively. Another goal would explain his questionable decisions..." But she could not imagine what else their father might have planned.

"It sounds like whatever he wants has something to do with these portals, right?" Bolin asked, then carried on without waiting for an answer. "So why don't we go have a look at them for ourselves, and see if we can find out what's going on?"

Eska and her brother exchanged a glance. "It _would_ be the most direct means of learning whatever Father isn't telling us," Desna pointed out.

"Have you recovered sufficiently to travel to the portal?" Eska asked, casting a concerned glance at his torso, half-hidden beneath the blankets he had drawn over himself.

"I will have by the time we gather the supplies we need and are prepared to leave." With the matter of their next move decided, Desna appeared to take note of Bolin's presence in the room for the first time. "You have succeeded in reclaiming your husband."

It wasn't precisely a question, but Eska knew an answer was expected. "I – yes," she replied, not yet ready to embark on the lengthy explanation that a more accurate response would demand. She was only delaying the unavoidable discussion; Desna would have noticed that Bolin was not wearing her betrothal necklace beneath the collar of his parka. But this was not the time. Desna would save his questions until they had the leisure to speak privately – for now, only his suspicious frown followed her as she headed for the door that connected their bedrooms. "Husband, come help me with my wardrobe."

Bolin followed her into the adjoining room, shutting the door most of the way behind him. He dropped his voice to a disconcertingly-audible whisper. "So, I guess we're still not..." He jerked a thumb back toward Desna's room, placed a finger over his lips, pointed back and forth between himself and Eska, and made a few other gestures that she assumed had meaning in his mind.

She deduced the sense of his query well enough. "Later," she confirmed quietly. "That is not a complication we need now." Revealing that she and Bolin were no longer officially betrothed, let alone wed, would raise questions of his loyalties, which would in turn lead to the issue of her own – and she did not intend to address that matter until she had more information.

In truth, Eska wasn't certain which she would rather find in the spirit world: facts that affirmed her father's actions as the correct ones and allowed her to trust him again without reservation, or evidence that revealed some terrible plot of his, so that she could help Bolin and the Avatar with a clear conscience. She took some small comfort in the knowledge that the choice would not be hers – whatever discoveries awaited them would remain the same regardless of what she wished. For the moment, she set about finding her cold-weather traveling gear, putting Bolin to work helping her sort through her closet.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've let this go for so long without an update. I'll try to be better in the future, though the next chapter might take me a couple of weeks because I've got some stuff going on this coming week. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

Once the decision was made, none of them wanted to wait around for too long. The nurse lady that Eska talked to had brought their meal up pretty soon after, and with nothing else left to discuss, they ate in silence. The food was good, but even authentic Southern Water Tribe seaweed noodles couldn't distract Bolin completely from the fact that he was eating them in the middle of enemy territory. At least Desna seemed to be recovering fast – though noticing that brought with it the uneasy realization that they'd be leaving soon.

After the twins had packed everything they thought might come in handy, they all left the same way he and Eska had come in, out the window and onto an ice platform. Then Desna led the way to the snow-camel pens and quietly liberated two of the animals for their use. That led to a moment's confusion: the twins were used to riding together, but it didn't take Eska long to realize that Bolin had no idea how to command or control his snow-camel. If he was completely honest, Bolin was kind of glad when Eska came over and shooed him to the rear seat of the steed, mounting in front of him – and not just because he thought the snow-camel was going to crane its neck around and try to take a bite out of him. He hadn't been thinking about it much when they thought something awful had happened to Desna, but now he'd started to worry about how things between him and Eska would change once her brother was back in the picture. He slipped his arms around her as she took up the reins.

It wasn't long before he had another reason to be grateful she was close. The way to the Southern Portal hadn't gotten any friendlier since the last time they made the trip, and now they were traveling in the middle of the night instead of stopping to make camp. The icy wind whistled and howled in creepy tones, making Bolin clutch tighter to Eska's heavy robe. It wasn't currently snowing, but the wind caught up the dry powder that had already fallen and made it swirl across the snowdrifts like a fog, making it hard to see anything up ahead or around them. Instead, Bolin let his gaze wander up to the starry sky. There seemed to be so many more stars here than there were back home, where the city lights and the sooty air allowed only the brightest pinpricks of light to be seen. The constellations were different this far south, and Bolin tried to pick out the two or three he'd gotten Korra to show him before the festival.

He saw a shadow pass across the stars, briefly blotting out the constellation he'd just spotted. Then he spotted more movement in the sky at the edge of his vision, another shadow – and another! And all of them were headed in the same direction they were riding. "Eska..." he said, hearing his own voice tremble. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he pointed up at the patches of darkness marring the sky. "Look!"

She did, but it was Desna who replied. "Dark spirits. It seems there are more of them now than there were before Avatar Korra opened the portal. Why hasn't Father been dealing with them?"

"Perhaps he has other concerns," Eska suggested, her tone pointedly neutral.

Bolin ducked his head against her back, taking refuge from both the biting wind and the spooky shapes in the sky. "I really hate all this ghost-story stuff."

He felt Eska's mittened hand rest on his knee. "I will still protect you," she told him softly. He let go of her waist long enough to cover her hand with his and squeeze it gently.

They didn't stop to make camp, but their pace was slower than the last trip because of the dark. The snow-camels must not have been used to being dragged out of their warm stalls and made to trudge across an icy wasteland in the middle of the night, and their bad tempers slowed things down even more. It was well into the next morning by the time they spotted the glow of the Spirit Portal in the distance. Bolin had managed to doze a little in the saddle, though Eska had needed to catch him once when he'd nearly slipped off their snow-camel. The sun was low in the sky to the north, making the light from the portal look almost like a second dawn in the opposite direction. Bolin couldn't help wishing they were headed toward the other light. In the sky overhead, the dark spirits were massing around the portal entrance, and more of them arrived to join the swarm all the time.

On the ground, at least, it was fairly quiet. Bolin kept casting nervous glances up at the roiling dark cloud above them, but the spirits didn't seem to take any notice of the three intruders. There was a small break in the trees, little more than a narrow ring of clear space surrounding the portal entrance. The snow had frozen hard, and even their animals barely left any traces as they walked across it. When Eska led the snow-camels out of the clearing to secure them, Bolin turned to her brother. "So, what's it like in there? In the spirit world, I mean. Do we need to do anything special, like meditate or something?"

Desna looked at him levelly – it was almost the same cool, disdainful look that Eska sometimes wore, but unlike her glare, Bolin had a harder time seeing behind this expression. "No additional preparation is needed. The portal allows humans to enter the spirit world physically, bringing with us our bodies – and our bending."

"Oh. Okay." _Well, this is awkward._ Bolin stuck his hands in his pockets, peering into the forest where Eska had gone. Silence almost always made him uncomfortable – as did Eska's brother. The two combined had him shifting from one foot to the other, trying to _will_ Eska to return faster.

"You seem much more comfortable with my sister lately," Desna observed dryly.

Bolin stiffened, turning slowly to face the other boy. Desna's expression was as unreadable as ever, but Bolin was sure he heard accusation in that flat tone. _Does he mean... what I think he means?_ His mind's eye was assailed with images of Eska's dripping, naked breasts, her hands on his chest, her sly half-smile as her leg pulled his hips against hers. He felt his face heat up, and pulled anxiously at the collar of his parka. _I shouldn't have sat so close to her on the snow-camel._ Bolin swallowed reflexively, trying to moisten his suddenly-arid mouth. "I, uh – yeah, we – things are good," he squeaked.

"She was quite displeased by your precipitous departure after she had gone to such trouble to plan the wedding."

The heavy breath he let out in relief puffed visibly in the frigid air. _Thank goodness, he wasn't asking about... that._ "We had some... misunderstandings to clear up between us, back then. We just needed to sit down and talk them out, I guess."

The puzzled frown that appeared on Desna's face was much easier to read, even if Bolin wasn't sure what he'd said to cause it. Before he could ask, Eska's voice cut through the still air. "The snow-camels are secured on the far side of the portal entrance; it's not far, if we need to leave quickly."

"Then there is little reason to waste any more time." Desna's expression resumed its neutral mask as he turned to join his sister, leaving Bolin to trail behind them. The twins stepped into the glowing column of light without hesitation; rather than risk being left behind, Bolin took a steadying breath and plunged in after them.

He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting the transition into the spirit world to feel like, but... it didn't. There was no disorientation, no static sparks along the surface of his skin. It was just like stepping from one room into another – or really, more like stepping into a heated house from outdoors, because the air here was much warmer. It wasn't winter here. _Maybe there aren't any seasons in the spirit world._ At least there was no layer of ice between his feet and the rough, jagged stone that made up the ground here; being in contact with the earth reassured him a little. Puddles and rivulets of water peppered the earth, and in the center of the stark, blasted-looking space rose a huge, twisted tree. It looked dead, and a dull, red light glowed from within the trunk. Beyond the tree, at the far side of the wasteland, a matching column of light rose endlessly into the sky.

Desna stopped abruptly, and Bolin almost crashed into his back. "The Northern Portal is open." This time, the surprise and confusion were clear in his voice. "I didn't think Father had succeeded in forcing it open."

"Perhaps he did not." Eska turned to face her brother, but cast a glance at Bolin over Desna's shoulder. It took him a moment to realize what she was asking him, and another moment to nod in response. If Eska trusted her brother, Bolin could trust Eska. He thought he saw a faint hint of smile before she continued, "It may have been our cousin."

"Avatar Korra survived?" Desna cast a wide-eyed look back over his shoulder at the portal they'd come through, and Bolin thought he could read that expression well enough: he'd told Unalaq that Korra was dead, and it wasn't likely their father was understanding about mistakes like that.

Eska reached for Desna's arm, returning his attention to her. "Yes. But that's not relevant now. We must find out what Father is keeping from us."

He nodded once, and let the subject drop. The three of them continued across the rocky plain in silence, keeping the ominous-looking tree at a distance by unspoken agreement. Bolin had the uneasy feeling that whatever they were trying to find out had something to do with that gnarled trunk and the ruddy glow coming from it, but he didn't want to be the one to suggest they go take a closer look. Instead they headed for the other portal; Bolin wondered if they might find some sign that Korra had been there.

They had crossed about two-thirds of the craggy bowl of earth when Bolin heard a sound from behind them, back the way they had come. He turned to look, but the enormous, knotted tree stood between them and the Southern Portal, blocking his view. Eska didn't bother to wait and see; he felt a solid grip on the back of his collar, and barely managed to swallow a yelp as he was yanked down to the ground behind a low stone ridge.

The only sounds were the hushed rasps of their breathing, his own thudding heartbeat in his ears, and the odd echo of footsteps on the barren rock. Feeling exposed, Bolin pressed his hands to the ground and made a spreading gesture, silently bending a narrow trench in the earth beneath them. Now, at least, they could crouch upright and remain fully hidden, with the ridge concealing the hole he'd made. He was very glad of it a few moments later; the voice that broke the uneasy silence was practically on top of them.

"Preparations are underway for the arrival of the Avatar. I have set my men to constructing defenses for any approach she and her allies are likely to take. It is now only a matter of time." _Unalaq._ Bolin ducked lower into the ditch.

The voice that replied was deep, unfamiliar, and made Bolin's insides twist unpleasantly. "Good. I look forward to seeing Raava again." It laughed, a thick, harsh sound; beside him, he felt Eska tense in response. Something about that voice just felt _wrong._

"Is there no way to release you now, to complete our joining and become the Dark Avatar in order to be ready for her when she arrives?" Bolin glanced at the twins, and saw them exchange identical wide-eyed looks of confusion and alarm.

"Only during Harmonic Convergence will my power be great enough to break free of this prison," the voice answered. "Then you will become my vessel and bring _balance_ to the worlds of spirit and flesh, but you must be patient. I have waited ten thousand years to face Raava again; what is a few more days?"

When Unalaq replied, his usual serene calm had returned to his voice. "I understand, Vaatu. Then I shall return once our preparations are complete." There were footsteps again, and the same low, unnerving chuckle coming from the tree.

None of them dared move until both sounds had faded into silence. Bolin was first to speak, probably because he was the least stunned – _After all, I already thought Unalaq was a bad guy. Maybe not_ that _bad, but still._ "What was that thing he was talking to?" he whispered.

Eska just shook her head, either not sure what it was or not willing to say. It was Desna who spoke. "A dark spirit – a powerful one. I sensed it when we entered the spirit world. But... what is Father doing with it? I don't understand."

"Sounds like he made some kind of deal with it," Bolin observed. "And it doesn't sound good for Korra."

"Father wouldn't involve himself with a dark spirit!" Desna snapped. "He has spent years working to turn dark spirits to the light, and bring balance between spirits and humans!"

"It sure sounded like he was 'involved' with it to me!" Bolin growled. "Maybe he's not the perfect guy you think he is!" He wasn't sure who the "Raava" the dark spirit had mentioned was, but it sounded like something connected to Korra somehow, and the tone of nasty anticipation in the spirit's voice made him feel a bit sick.

Desna drew in a breath to snarl a retort, but before he could form the words, both he and Bolin noticed the deep rumbling above them. They looked up to see what Eska had already spotted: three angry spirits, each twice the size of Naga, glaring down at them with dagger-like fangs bared.

Bolin struck the wall of their trench with both fists, sending a tremor through the earth that shoved the stone under the dark spirits' feet several yards away. The lion-dog spirits scattered to the sides, but at least now they no longer loomed directly overhead. Eska and Desna reached for the narrow streams that flowed across the plain, forming weapons of water and ice to fend off the spirits, and Bolin raised the ground under their feet to bring them back up to the surface.

The spirits recovered quickly and began to advance again, forming a loose "V" with one of them hanging back a bit behind the others. The front two leaped forward, only to be driven back by the twins' water whips and icicles, and the blocks and spikes of stone that Bolin hurled. But their defense didn't send the spirits as far back as before, and when the spirits lunged again, they got closer before being driven away. Meanwhile, the third spirit roared and snapped in the background, moving as they did to keep itself between them and the portal they'd come through.

"They're trying to keep us away from the Southern Portal!" Bolin shouted, kicking another column of rock at one of the spirits.

Eska took a step back, giving herself space to look at the portal. They'd been pushed back by the spirits, and were now more than three-quarters of the way across the desolate bowl. She had to see that there was no way they were going to make it to the Southern Portal. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded once. "On my signal, run for the Northern Portal."

"The Nor–?" He didn't have time to get the whole question out. Eska gathered up a torrent of water from the ground and flung it at the spirits, freezing it in mid-cascade to imprison them in a waterfall of ice. The spirit in the back was too far away to be caught, and it howled, gathering its haunches beneath it to leap over the wall.

"Now!" Eska yelled.

Bolin stomped hard, lifting the ground up beneath their feet to give them a running start toward the closer portal. He could feel the dark spirit's heavy footfalls on the rocky ground as it gained on them, and he heard the splintering of ice as first one, and then the other trapped spirit broke free of Eska's waterfall. The shining column of light was getting closer as the three of them pushed themselves as fast as they could, but the baying roars of the spirits rang deafeningly in his ears. And then...

They were through. Bolin didn't expect the smooth ice on the ground when they crossed back into the physical world, and skidded face-first into a snowbank. Eska pulled him out of it by the hood of his parka while Desna created a thick, cylindrical wall of ice around the portal.

"That won't hold them long," Desna said when he joined them a moment later. "We should hurry."

Eska finished brushing the snow from Bolin's coat. "Then let's go." She claimed his hand and started walking into the woods surrounding the portal; Desna quickly fell into step at her side.

"Um, where are we going?"

"Home," she told him. "The capital city of the Northern Water Tribe is not far from this forest." With a small half-smile, she added, "I said I would show it to you one day."

That news came as something of a relief – _At least we won't be trudging through the snow all night, without the snow-camels this time!_ But another thought drew his brows into a worried frown. "What are you going to say to everyone? I mean, it's not like they expect you back yet, right?"

"That is an excellent question," Desna added. "How will we explain our presence, without Father or the forces he brought south?"

Eska's expression turned cold and impassive. "I will think of something."

Bolin didn't feel particularly interested in bothering her with more questions in the face of that icy scowl, and apparently neither did her brother, so they trudged on through the snow in silence. Still Eska said nothing, nor gave any indication what she was thinking. The grip of her gloved hand in Bolin's was firm but not crushing, so he guessed that she was probably all right, at least for now – but how was she handling what had happened back in the spirit world? Oddly enough, it was easier for Bolin to read Desna's feelings at the moment than hers: confusion, anger, and possibly a touch of betrayal chased one another across the male twin's stormy features. Bolin wondered how many of those emotions were echoed in Desna's sister's mind.

True to Eska's word, they had been walking for less than an hour when Bolin spotted the glistening, white walls of a city. Soon they had drawn close enough to be challenged, and identified. The gates were opened, and they headed down the main thoroughfare of the city. Word of the twins' return must have been spreading since they were first spotted, since more and more people gathered at the edges of the road or in balconies and nearby bridges. The canals running parallel to the streets were packed with small boats filled with onlookers.

Finally, when they reached a large, open square with a statue of a serene-looking teenage girl dressed in ornate robes and holding a sphere fashioned to look like the moon, Eska brought their group to a halt and turned to address the assembled citizenry. It seemed that she had decided what she was going to say, though Bolin couldn't guess what it was.

When he heard the announcement she made, it was all he could do to keep his jaw from hitting the ground in shock.

"People of the North! I bring news from the South Pole," she began. After a moment's pause to wait for the crowd to fall silent, she continued. "My father, Chief Unalaq, is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, cliffhanger! I'll try not to keep you waiting too long this time. ;)


End file.
